Noro go Hûl, Bado go Eru
by Lilie Hargreaves
Summary: Were you left wanting more after RotK? Well, this picks up with Eldarion's child, as well as many other characters thrown in. All new plot line, action, adventure, drama, and bit of romance. COMPLETE
1. Delegates from the South

NOTE TO READER: PLEASE READ--This is a story that a friend and I did for a project in school. We could pick any subject as the basis of the subject, and we choose to write a story. But not just any story—a Lord of the Rings based story that takes place many years after the end of The Return of the King. It has only references to characters from the original stories, besides the usage of Eldarion. We are publishing it to see what the general audience thinks of our work because we can't truly publish it. Reviews are appreciated greatly, but please remember, they are part of our project as well and will be read by teachers, so refrain from using 'chat speak' or crude language. Thank you very much. The writing gets better as we get older—it was started three years ago. It is done, so more chapters will rapidly be published.

Disclaimer—Middle Earth and everything besides our own characters and plot are owned by JRR Tolkein, we are not doing this for any profit.

Andúin rushed out onto the courtyard of Minas Tirith. She ran to the point and looked out over Gondor. The sun was just rising, glinting off of her auburn hair, and she could barely make out Osgiliath or the mountain range marking the borders of Mordor. But she had not come to see the sunrise. She was watching for the delegates from the South, her vibrant green eyes squinting at the morning sun. She knew very little of the lands south of Gondor, and was anxious to meet them.

But she still couldn't spot them. She had been checking every ten minutes since she could see. She walked back inside the castle. She ran into one of the servants.

"Lady Andúin," she said, "The delegates probably won't be arriving until noon."

"I know, but I just want to be ready to welcome them when they arrive."

She headed for the stairs leading to the watch tower. It was her favorite place in the castle. She climbed the high stairs to the top of the tower. She walked over to the window and looked toward Osgiliath. The sun was higher in the sky, and she could easily make out the towers and the river. She turned to the south. She could see horses coming along the Hared Road.

She rushed back down the stairs and saw her father standing near the bottom. "Father!" I can see the delegates! They're here!" she yelled. They walked together into the Great Hall, and he took his place on the throne.

"You've been awaiting this," he said to Andúin. "Are you not going to greet them, _Merilwen_?" Andúin smiled at the use of this name, though she didn't know the meaning, but he had called her that as long as she could remember.

Andúin rushed from his hall and to the stable. She took Alata from his stall, and raced down the seven levels of Minas Tirith toward the gate.

'_My eyes are gray today. The dark clouds are hovering over making the forest misty. I pull me cape closer to my shivering body. My mother is pushing me. I need to get out of here….she wants me to marry a man from Rivendell. I'm young, I need adventure. She's holding me back. It's practically impossible to do anything that pleases her. She's always worried for me, and I resent her for that. I know I shouldn't but I cannot help it. It might be a smart match Teleríus and I…it seems everyone is my elder guiding me…teaching me…and sometimes, living my life for me_.'

Just then Jnían heard faint cries echoing behind her. She leaped form her perch on a low limb to her first love, Amáteria, her white mare. Jnían kissed Amáteria behind the ears, and began to ride toward the strange sound. Branches caught her hair as she pushed through some heavy brush.

She watched in cover as friends and neighbors marched past solemnly faced toward the ground. Jnían cautiously led Amáteria the crowd. Some were weeping, and some were silent. She dismounted and walked slowly closer, pushing her long blond hair back from her eyes..

"What is it?" she asked, her voice almost a whisper.

"Look for yourself," he said, pointing. Jnían froze and stared blankly at a blue face. The figure's once beautiful hair fell loose and stringy.

"No!" Jnían shouted, tears burning down her cheeks. She shoved pass the people, stumbling. "No…" she repeated. She stopped inches from Awiié, her best and only friend. She could sense her eyes turning dark. The lifeless body before her remained still.

"Who did this!" she demanded. "Tell me!" One of the present mourners, Laiquenius, stepped forward.

"We found her like this," he said, holding back his grief, "We don't know what happened. Apparently she had been walking toward Edoras and she never returned. Two boys found her not far from the borders of Lórien, dead. We don't know how or why."

With tears in a steady flow, Jnían walked toward Amáteria. She rode to her and Awiié's favorite place. It was a cliff overlooking Rohan. It you squinted just right, you could see the watchtower of Minas Tirith. Jnían let out a shrill whistle that echoed over the hills. Aátrius landed on her shoulder from behind. He rubbed on her check clearing away of the salty bitterness of the tragedy.

"I feel avenge you, Awiié …in this life or the next."

Andúin arrived at the city gates just as they opened up to allow the delegates to enter. She stared in awe as four riders entered.

They rode tall horses, twice the size of Alata. Their heavy footfalls echoed through the stone city. The riders were robed and cloaked, and you could only see their mouth. Their skin was dark and tanned. They wore dark colors, black, greens, blues, and reds. They had high boots coming up to their knees.

Andúin really wasn't sure if she still wanted to meet these strangers. But it was her duty. She slid off Alata and strode over to the delegates. "Welcome," she said, extending her hand in greeting. "We've been expecting you."

Several minutes later, the riders followed Andúin into the Great Hall. The man leading the group approached the king. He made a quick bow then threw off his hood. His brown hair fell loosely to his shoulders. "We bring news from Haradwaith, Lord Eldarion," he said in a hoarse, rough voice. "Your lands are in danger."

"Danger?" Eldarion repeated. "What do you speak of?"

"A shadow grows in the south. It is still far from the borders of Gondor, but it is swiftly moving. It started on open lands. One of my riders caught sight of it. It is growing with each passing sunrise. It moves in this direction. You have just enough time to prepare yourselves for this new enemy."

A silence filled the hall. "It may not reach here. Suppose it is defeated before it reaches Gondor…" Eldarion's voice cut through the silence.

But the rider cut him off. "It is swiftly defeating every settlement that has been in its path. My men describe it as an invisible enemy, only a black fog that engulfs the town and leaves the town in wreckage. No one ever survives being in the black cloud."

"No one ever survives?" Eldarion asked.

"No one. But the news gets worse."

Eldarion massaged his temples. "Worse," he whispered.

The rider began to again speak. "The enemy seems to move in only one direction, nor veer of its course. And yet settlements have been destroyed in no pattern we can find. We fear there may be more then one. Harethgûl, tell him what you told me."

A different rider moved up beside the first. When they threw back their hood, it revealed a woman. She bowed, then rose and began to speak. Her voice was much more pleasant to listen to.

"We heard news from the southeast of a foe described much as this one; a black smoke hovering covering and destroying villages. Bit it disappeared before any more could be learned about it.

"It was defeated?" Eldarion asked eagerly.

"No, it only disappeared. No one knows why or how."

Eldarion looked at them. "We need to do something, as you said. Let us find somewhere more private to talk." They exited the room, but as the lead rider when through the doorway, Andúin noticed him make a small gesture to one of his men. The man acknowledged it, and motioned silently for the others to follow him to the doorway, His hand went to his sword hilt.

Andúin immediately knew what was about to happen. She ran outside and whistled. Alata immediately came to her. She climbed onto his back and drew the sword hanging from his side. They rushed into the Great Hall, his hoof beats ringing like continuous thunder. The riders turned, and had only a moment before they fell to the ground as Alata ran through them. One of them jumped up, sword drawn. It clashed with Andúin's. They dueled, but with Alata as her advantage, her foe was quickly defeated. As he fell to the ground she was faced with the other. His skill was considerably better, but she spun Alata around and into him, knocking him off balance. But as he fell, he grabbed Andúin's ankle, pulling her from Alata's back. She stood up, and was confronted by Harethgûl.

She pulled out her own sword. "I'm glad to see a woman comfortable with a blade," she said. "It's a rare sight."

"Well, you can see it now!" Andúin yelled, and lunged at Harethgûl. Their swords clashed loudly.

"Meet Silme," Harethgûl said, speaking about her sword. "It will be the last thing you ever see." She spun and tried to attack Andúin's neck, but was blocked. Their swords echoed and clashed as they moved around the Great Hall. Suddenly, Harethgûl got past Andúin's defenses and sliced her upper arm. Andúin cried out in pain, and for a moment, Harethgûl was distracted. Andúin, still yelling, slammed the side of her sword against Harethgûl's knee, breaking it. She fell to the ground, screaming in pain.

"Silme shall be the last sight you ever see," Andúin said, and she slain her enemy with their own sword. Andúin looked down at her own sword, and noticed the old blade was now broken, and the shards lay scattered on the floor. It had broken on the impact with Harethgûl's knee. She kept Silme, and rushed into the room where her father was with his assassin.

But her father had already slain his enemy, and his body lay unmoving on the floor. "Andúin," Eldarion said. "My daughter, are you alright?" He looked at the bloodied sword in her hand.

"I'm fine, father," she said, "Do not fret over me. What do you make of these traitors?"

"I know not yet what to think. I shall speak to my court. I want you not to dwell upon the subject. It does not concern you," he said.

"If I were you son you would have let me be a part of this," she said.

"_Merilwen_," her father said. "We've been over this so many times. Though I would have liked a son before you mother parted to take my place, I would trade you for nothing. You are the beautiful blossom of Gondor, Gondor's flower, and I wish to harm to come to you. Just please stay out of this." He left the room.

But Andúin had other thoughts. She needed her father to deep down really appreciate her as much as he would a son. She needed to prove she was the same. She went to the archives to see if she could find anything helpful.

She pored over documents for hours. But finally she found what she had been seeking. She needed a sword, and a good one, and she had found it.

_Elo! Andúril; Luch en Annûn. I chathol asuenen, Ad echannen!_

_Behold! Andúril; Flame of the West. The blade that was broken has now been remade!_

North, south, east, or west. Where would she start? Jnían had no idea whatsoever…it had been two days since Awiié's death and still she silently contemplated which way her destiny was pulling her, waiting for her…

"What do you think, Aátrius, how about west?" Aátrius hopped form her shoulder to the ground. She moved her claws in the dirt. She wanted to go south it seemed. Jnían trusted her friend, and because she didn't have any more compatible ideas, she decided she would begin her journey after her mother's party. She suppose she should change, she's been wearing this gown and cape for three moths. She too was extremely hungry…she hadn't left the cliff since she had gotten there two days earlier.

Jnían mounted Amáteria and rode back home. Once she arrived she took a nap. When she awoke she wandered out into the grassy corridor. She was floating around until something caught her attention. Andúril, her sister sword. Jnían drew out Ranafëa and laid it beside Andúril. They looked complete together like they were made for each other. Andúril was hidden here years ago to keep it away from thieves and member of the council who wanted all its control as with Jnían's. They were created at the same time.

Ranafëa's original keeper was Ciŕdan, Lord Elf of the Faramirth and founder of the Grey Havens. Jnían is the most recent of Ciŕdan's generation. Andúril's keeper was the great grandfather of Aragorn. She wondered why Andúril was kept from its destiny…to be in the hands of its righteous keeper, the descendant of Aragorn…whoever that might be. It's been a kept a secret for the last fifty years. It was Jnían's responsibility to guard Andúril. Hopefully it will be safe while she's gone.

She placed Mallius, a decoy, in its place while the true Andúril would be only where Jnían and Awiié would be able to find it. She needed to get it there before twilight, when she would be expected for her mother's party in Rivendell. She had no doubt that Teleríus would be there. He's quite charming, but she couldn't stand him at all. He's full of himself. Jnían couldn't tale it when he tried to bait her with the snobbery. He's rude, conceited, and definitely not for her.

She met Amáteria at the end of the stairs. They traveled an hour to Rohan. She stopped at the Pebble Inn. She led Amáteria into the stables and crept to the thirds past from the end, then knocked on it. It was hollow. She slid it to the left and removed a gold necklace. One the end of the necklace was a map of Rohan. She followed the map until she reached the diamond. It was a small wooden shed.

Jnían opened the creaking door, and silently entered. "Who is it?" a raspy voice asked.

"Jnían…Meshía, Awiié's dead," she said.

"I know, I heard the travelers speaking about it yesterday in the inn. It seems she dies south of here," Meshía explained.

"That's where I'm headed in a few days, to find out what happened to her…but before I go, I need to make sure this stays safe."

"Precede my child," she said.

"The shed's door swung open releasing sunlight into the dim room. Before them stood a big man picking the last scraps of meat off a bone. He was short and very stocky. He stunk of old wine and hogs.

"What is an Elf doing here?" he grumbled. He stepped inside further. "Get out!" he shouted. Jnían unsheathed Ranafëa, and held her faithful sword to his nose.

"I suggest you step out kind sir, or I; give you another mouth to eat out of," Jnían threatened. The am slowly backed out, swallowing hard."

"Go ahead Jnían, quickly," Meshía said. Jnían made her way through the trap door in the floor to the secret underground chamber Jnían placed the shrouded weapon into a cedar chest, locked it, and put the key on the same necklace as the golden map. She exited the shed, thanking Meshía.

She made to Rivendell just in time for the party. She stepped into the door, and already wished to leave. Teleríus pulled her out to the terrace overlooking the waterfall. He proposed. She wasn't surprised and told him no. He got mad and stalked out. She peered inside to watch him walk away, and saw someone in the corner of the room. He was wearing a hooded cape. He looked up, and she could feel her eyes turn yellow.

Andúin threw her saddlebag over Alata's back. She was going to leave as soon as the sun set. She had found all the information she needed. The blade's resting place was in LothLórien, being kept by the Elves. She had never seen an Elf before, but she figured they would be just as easy to sneak past as men.

But Andúin was still nervous about her journey. She walked to her grandfather's grave. Aragorn's body lay entombed with the two hobbits Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took on either side of him. She whispered a soft lament, bowed her head, and then left. She thought this always brought her good luck on her journeys, and anyway, it was his sword she planned to get.

The sun hung low on the horizon. She climbed onto Alata and pulled the hood over her gave. They left the city, fooling the Gatekeeper into thinking she was a traveler, nothing more.

Andúin didn't relax until she could no longer see Minas Tirith. She eased Alata into a canter, and then pulled out a map she had taken from the archives. She had never been outside of Gondor, and as she stopped Alata on the crest of a hill overlooking the vast lands of Rohan, she thought o herself, '_This is going to be an adventure_.' Little did she know how correct she was.


	2. A Fateful Meeting

Jnían didn't get much sleep, the excitement of her journey, and the hooded man at the party. She yawned as she pulled her cape over her shoulders and secured it around her neck. She checked on Mallius to make sure everything was in its place. She mounted Amáteria with the hope that she had everything with her. Jnían called Aátrius to her side. She was about to nudge Amáteria's side when she heard something crash.

She stopped. Jnían crept up the stairs until she reached the room with Mallius. She yanked her hood over her head to keep from exposing her face. Jnían snuck up behind the dark hooded figure.

'_Very sloppy,_' she thought, '_at least if they were going to steal it, they should have enough brains to do it right_.' Jnían noticed the small shards of her grandmother's vase. She poked Ranafëa lightly into the stranger's back.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"Uhhh…" they stammered. It was a woman.

"What are you doing here?" Jnían shouted. She pushed the sword harder into her back.

"I came to reclaim my birthright," she managed.

"Who are you?" Jnían pressed.

The figure turned around and removed her hood. "Andúin, descendant of Aragorn. I'm taking what's rightfully mine!"

Jnían removed her hood. "Not without a fight…" she said.

They unsheathed their swords and struck them together. About a minute passed when they each had their sword at the other's neck.

"Are you truly a descendant of Aragorn?" Jnían calmly questioned.

"I am," she answered.

"Fine, you shall have Andúril. But only if you accompany me on my journey, to find what murdered my friend."

"Fair enough, anyway, I long to prove my worth to m father, so he knows I can take care of myself."

"Good, then we should retrieve Andúril before we leave," Jnían explained.

"What do you mean? Andúril's right here."

"No, that's Mallius, a decoy, so thieves can't steal the true Andúril while I'm away." Jnían answered.

"Okay, let's go get it," she said. They mounted their horses and set off to find their destiny.

"Follow me," Jnían instructed. "_Gîl síla na lû govaded_."

A lot had happened in the last hour. Andúin had tried to just quietly sneak in, take the sword, and leave. And she really wouldn't be stealing since the sword was rightfully hers, and you can't steal from yourself. But now she was riding over Rohan being led by an Elf. Things had really changed.

The sun was rising, turning the grass in Rohan to a brilliant gold. This girl Jnían hadn't spoken anything since the journey began. Andúin was lost, and didn't know where she was going.

"Where are we riding to?" Andúin asked her Jnían reined her horse back beside Alata.

"We are going to retrieve Andúril," she said.

"I know that. I mean where?"

"You'll see when we arrive."

Jnían nudged her horse ahead again, but this time Andúin followed. She didn't want to be a follower any longer. Jnían at first seemed surprised, but seemed to quickly accept them.

"We are almost there," Jnían said.

They arrived at a small shack in the middle of the plains. Jnían walked up and the door creaked open. They entered and Andúin noticed an old woman. "This is Meshía," Jnían said to her. She then leaned over and whispered in Meshía's ear. Meshía left the room through a door near the back.

"Why are we here?" Andúin asked Jnían.

"Patience," she said, holding up her hand. "You will see."

Andúin stood waiting for what seemed like a lifetime. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Finally, Meshía came back into the room. She carried in her hand a long scabbard, and handed it hilt first to Andúin.

She gripped her fingers around the legendary hilt. She drew it very slowly. The blade caught the small bit of light that was in the room. She held it out in front of her, the Elvish writing swirling up the blade.

"Andúril," Jnían said. "Flame of the West. The blade that was broken now remade. My job was been to keep it until Elessar's descendant shall call upon it again. It is now yours."

"Thank you," Andúin said to her. She felt, different somehow. As if she had found a missing piece after years of searching. She felt stronger, more confident. Meshía handed her the scabbard, and Andúin unbuckled Silme, handing it to Meshía. "You can have it," she said. Then Andúin buckled Andúril onto her, sheathing it.

"Come," Jnían said. "We must ride. I have held up my end of the deal, now you must remain true to your word." She looked into the distance, her eyes glossy and seemingly looking at something that was not there. But she noon snapped back into the present, and motioned Andúin outside. They climbed back onto the backs of their horses, and then rose back east of Rohan.

"Have you heard anything of the South?" Jnían asked. She couldn't stand the silence. She knew she was the one not speaking, but now she was going to. After all, she is a very talkative person.

"Actually, I have," she replied. "My father was speaking of it. About something that destroys everything it its path. Some sort of black fog. I'm not aware of what exactly it is, bit it seems to be indestructible."

"We'll be coming up on Gondor soon." Jnían stated.

"Gondor? Why are we going there?"

"Because it's south, and because she shall check on your family to make sure they are safe."

"Fine, but we shall enter at night. I don't want my father to know I'm here."

"Very well, Andúin. Until dark we should find a place to stay. We should rest close to the gate.

Hours passed, and Jnían and Andúin talked about a big variety of things. Jnían believe she had made a new friend. She felt like the piece that was missing, was now slowly coming back. Andúin was feeling more comfortable around Jnían. She believed that Jnían was beginning to loosen up. It was twilight.

"We should get started, the guards have fallen asleep," Jnían suggested.

"Alright, follow me. I know how to get in." Andúin said. Jnían nodded, silently admitting her ignorance to the directions of Minas Tirith. They carefully opened the gate, so as not to awake the guards. When they entered, they stumbled upon a lifeless maid.

"Oh no!" Andúin whispered. "Celeb…who did this?"

"Was she close to you?" Jnían asked.

"Yes…well, she was my maidservant. I loved her," she answered grievously. They continued on to Andúin's father's chambers. It was hard to stay quiet walking on the marble. There was someone hovering over his sleeping body holding a dagger over his head, readying himself to plunge into the king. Andúin began to rush toward her father. Jnían stopped her with her arm, signaling for her to stop. In a matter of seconds, Jnían was behind the person with the dagger pressed against his throat.

"Deal with him quietly," Jnían whispered. Jnían kept her other hand on his mouth, smothering any attempt to make noise. She dragged him out to the vestibule and slammed him to the floor. Andúin followed. Jnían returned to the king while Andúin took on the assassin. Andúin drew Andúril, the feeling of holding her true sword rushing through her veins. He swung at her with his pitiful knife, and she easily blocked it. She then repeated the same gesture she used on Harethgûl, and he shattered his kneecap. She was about to strike him with her sword when she heard Jnían.

"Don't kill him!" she whispered. "We can question him."

"Fine!" she quietly shouted. "This man is about to murder my father, and you want me to let him live?"

"Yes. Think about it. If we kill him we'll be right back where we started. Let's prepare him for questioning."

Andúin laid the blade of her sword on his broken knee, making him wince. "Every time you don't answer, the blade goes deeper."

"We are not fazed by the severing of your limb," Jnían said to him. "So pity is not on your side."

"Why were you trying to kill Lord Eldarion?" Andúin asked him.

"I will lose every appendage on my body and die in my own blood before I tell you anything," the man said.

"That is not a wise choice," Jnían said. "But we will do it if we must. But if you answer our questions, we shall allow you leave."

"But," Andúin said, "if we find out you lied, we will pursue you and hunt you down link a beast," she leaned close to his ear as she said that, speaking barely above a whisper. She then returned to her original position. "So, why were you trying to kill him?"

"It was just a task," he said slowly.

"You lie."

"I would never."

"Than what reason did you have for killing Lord Eldarion?"

He fell silent. Andúin pressed the sword harder into his knee. He grimaced, but still said nothing. She continued to push the sword deeper and deeper into his flesh. Blood was now coming out of the wound, but the man said nothing. "Speak!" Andúin said. "Jnían, can you do any better?"

"I promise you, if you don't talk to us you'll never talk to anyone ever again. You will live, but you could be surprised at what you could live through," Jnían threatened. She pulled out the small knife from her boot.

"This is your last chance," Andúin chimed.

"Hold his head, Andúin," Jnían commanded. She did as instructed. Jnían took a good grip on the intruder's tongue. She began to cut into hid tongue. She cut maybe ½ centimeter when he complied.

"Okay! Okay! Get off, I'll tell you!" he squealed. Jnían released him and pushed him toward the wall. At that moment the doors to the hallway burst open and men protruded in.

"Delegates…" Andúin whispered.

"Who?" Jnían questioned.

"Delegates!" she repeated. "From the south. They are assassins." Both girls left the messenger and headed toward the group of delegates. They entered into a fierce battle. Of course they came out alive, exercising their extraordinary skill with a sword. They returned to the messenger. He was being held by the last delegate.

"No!" the man screamed, as the delegate sharply slid his knife over the messenger's throat. The delegate escaped through the side entrance, getting away.

Andúin began to pursue him, but Jnían held up her hand. "He can say nothing. There is nothing to tell." Though Andúin thought otherwise, Jnían had spoken so calmly that she trusted her judgment. "He's just going back home."

They left the castle when they heard the footsteps of now awakened guards. With all attention at the castle, they were able to easily slip out the gate and back onto Pelennor Fields.

"What now?" Andúin asked Jnían. But Jnían was silent, deep in concentration.

"Where else would these people strike?" Jnían finally asked.

"Osgiliath," Andúin answered without hesitation. "It's the stronghold of Gondor, the garrison. It's usually attacked before Minas Tirith because it is hard to protect from invaders by way of the river."

"Where is the garrison?" Jnían inquired.

Andúin pointed. "Those buildings in the distance are the rooftops. It's an easy ride across Pelennor."

Both of them raced their horses across the flat unhindered land to the city boundaries. They city was asleep, no lights shining from windows not people in the street. They entered, their horses' footfalls echoing across the stone.


	3. Discovery in Osgiliath

They made their way through the streets cautiously, prepared for anything. "We should find somewhere to spend the night," Andúin suggested. "I'm exhausted."

"Very well," Jnían agreed. Her eyes had been a deep blue ever since they attack at the palace. She needed some sleep. She hadn't slept in two days. She needed energy to concentrate on what had to be done. There had to be some way to stop this darkness. She wondered if the delegates were involved with this somehow. Were these same questions running through Andúin's mind?

There was rain coming…she could feel it, maybe by tomorrow.

"Hey, look!" Andúin said. "There is a dim glow coming from an inn."

"Shhhhh….." Jnían whispered. She took hold of Andúin's reins, and led her into a small dark alley. "We're being followed. Be still." Andúin had noticed sounds from behind them, but disregarded them as a cat or dog. A few seconds later familiar figures past surveying…for them, no doubt. The girls dismounted and drew their swords. They crept up behind the delegates, and were following them as they cantered down the length of the street. A cold hand slipped around Jnían's mouth, and pulled her backwards. The clatter of Ranafëa hitting the ground captured Andúin's attention immediately. Jnían was ready to jab her attacker when he held the same dagger from the palace against her neck.

By that time the riding delegates had turned around, and were fully focused on Andúin. She was ready, and so was Andúril. She gave one last look at Jnían watching her being dragged into the night. She took on her attackers with stealth, annihilating them one by one. After she was finished, she picked up Ranafëa from the street. She needed to find Jnían.

Jnían was bound at the wrists and feet with a thick rope. They covered her face while they were traveling, so she couldn't recognize their location. Once they arrived, she was thrown into a stone cell. She almost lost every hope of escape, until she realized the ceiling was made of an exceptionally think type of wood.

Andúin carefully sheathed Ranafëa, and led Alata and Amáteria out into the street. She searched each delegate body for anything useful. On the last body she found a skeleton key, and a map. She slowly made her way to the inn, planning how she would go about rescuing Jnían. Once she lied down on her bed she instantly was asleep.

Once Jnían had released herself from the ropes with her dagger, she swiftly busted a hole in the filthy brown ceiling. It was the attic, to whatever building she was in. She hung from the rafters and pulled herself up into the abandoned room. She knew she needed to walk lightly. The slightest sound, and the delegates would surely be aware of her escape. Jnían tiptoed across the floor. It was completely dark except for a small sliver of golden light coming from the floor of a separate part of the attic. She peered through. Jnían observed the head delegate….as it seemed.

"Idiot!" he shouted. "Where is the key!"

"It appears to have been with Sherkin, sir," the other delegate answered.

"If you're not aware, solider, that key took us five years to find! It's the key to the chamber! It unlocks….you fool! You put it in the care of one of our most careless men! I suggest you find it, or it will be your head!" he nodded and walked out. _Unlocks what? _She asked him silently.

In a minute or two the man was back with a large brown journal. Jnían hoped dearly that Andúin had possession of the key they were speaking of. The man handed the book over, "Captain Lhach."

"Leave me!" the captain commanded. Jnían stared down as Lhach flipped though various pages, until he stopped at one. "Ah, here is it. The Dáe staff. For me second in command's sake, there had better be an alternate route to the staff." Eventually Lhach retired to his chambers in another room. Jnían was fortunate to find a trap door. She opened climbed down, and retrieved the journal. She contemplated leaving, but came to the conclusion that she should sleep, and escape the following day. She quietly made her way back up to the attic, and drifted into a heavy sleep.

Andúin awoke in a cold sweat. She feared for Jnían. Though the fear for her friend was engulfing her, deep down she knew Jnían was alright. Andúin rose to the shudders. It was almost dawn. She saddled Alata and began her quest to save her new best friend.

Osgiliath looked much different in the new day's sun. The streets were no longer empty, and the buildings once again looked inhabited. Andúin rode Alata through the streets looking for the building holding Jnían. She hoped they weren't too late.

Finally, Andúin found the building. It was abandoned, and wood covered the door and windows. There was a gaping hole on the third story, and Andúin guessed it had been there since the second war on the Ring and the siege of Osgiliath over 300 years ago.

She dismounted and walked over to the wall. Racks jutted from the wall, and she was able to use these to climb the wall up to the hole. Her footsteps sounded loudly across the marble. She searched every room on that floor before she went down to the first floor. She decided to check the second floor last. All the rooms on the third floor had been empty, but the first room she found on the first floor had a lot of things in it.

She walked over to the cupboard and, and upon opening it discovered fresh food. She gathered as much as she could carry in one arm. She noticed papers all over a desk in the corner, a candle still lit beside them. Andúin rummaged through the papers, but most of them were in a language unknown to her. The symbols were odd, neither Elvish, Dwarvish, or that of the Common Tongue.

random runes...they look better on our computer...use your imagination

She studied them, trying to notice any similarities within the figures and the ones she knew. She noticed small similarities with the letters themselves, but it helped her not. There were pages and pages of these symbols, and she didn't know whether they were of any importance.

Andúin looked to the floor beside the desk. There was a small leather saddlebag. She picked it up, and upon discovering it was empty, put some of the food in it. She then grabbed some of the documents. As she searched through them, she suddenly heard a creak above her head. Andúin froze, and then drew her sword out slowly. There was another creak, and then another crossing the entire room above.

The ceiling above was made of very thin wood, and the person walking along it cursed under their breath for all the noise they were making. The floor continued to groan, until it got to a certain point. There was a crack, and then a loud band as the floor collapsed.

Andúin jumped back in surprise as a figure come crashing through the ceiling, landing on the desk. But she quickly recovered and soon Andúril was laid against the figure's neck. They had long light colored hair which was currently concealing their face.

But then they spoke, "Andúin?"

Andúin immediately pulled her sword back in surprise. "Jnían!" she yelled. They pulled each other into an embrace.

Andúin pulled back. "Jnían, can you read this?" she asked, holding up the papers.

"No," Jnían said, taking them. "But this book is in the same language." She held up a large book. "But I know how to stop the black fog."

"Explain later," Andúin started, "we must retrieve Amáteria from the inn. I couldn't take her with me."

"Yes, let's go," Jnían agreed.

Once they reached the inn, not only Amáteria was there, but Aátrius as well. Jnían hugged Amáteria and pulled out a treat, and fed it to her.

"Andúin? This is Aátrius," Jnían introduced. Aátrius screamed.

"What is it?" Andúin inquired.

"It seems Aátrius had found archives we can use to translate this strange language.

"Where...oh wait, I found this key and map on one of the delegates yesterday. I have not the slightest clue what it is for," Andúin stated. Jnían pulled her hood back exposing her light hair.

"I heard the commander of the delegates, Lhach, speak of a skeleton key. I think she said it opened some cave leading to the destruction of the fog. I hoped you would find it. This is working for us; we're ahead of them already. Aátrius had told me that there are adequate archives in Rivendell. We should head there now while the day is young."

They set off, their horses galloping across Pelennor toward Rohan. They hoped to reach the border by nightfall. Aátrius soared high above them, his keen eyes picking up even the slightest movement. He watched for danger in every direction.

Alata's chestnut coat glistened in the morning light. He tail was held like a banner, his beck positioned straight and high. He was the perfect picture of all the glory of Gondor, and he moved knowing his high status.

Amáteria seemed to not run, but to fly. His hooves touched the ground for a very short time, just long enough to propel his white body back into the air. His mane blew like the grasses in Rohan, gently weaving back and forth, and his tail flowed behind him.

They were a picture perfect scene that day. Two girls, dresses blowing in the breeze, hair flying loose and free, two beautiful horses galloping as the wind, and a lone hawk soaring above them in the sky as they traveled over Pelennor fields, a place that at one time had been the picture of suffering and loss. Now white flowers and tall grasses grew over the devastation. Besides the few large pieces of rusted armor laying spread out on the ground, nothing remained to remind you of the battle.

They didn't stop until nightfall. The sun had set behind the mountains marking the edge of Gondor. They had not reached Rohan as they had hoped, but they were not very far away. They made camp under the shelter of a large rock. Andúin took all the tack off of Alata and allowed him to freely graze beside Amáteria.

Jnían started a small fire. The night was colder then usual. The girls huddled close to the flames. "Is it always this cold in Gondor?" Jnían asked.

"No," Andúin answered. "Even in the winter it isn't this cold down on the plain."

"That's what I was afraid of," Jnían answered.

"Do you know what it means?" asked Andúin anxiously.

"No," Jnían replied. "But I'm sure we will find out more when we translate the book."

"I hope so," Andúin said, giving the fire one last stroke before turning in for the night.

The morning sun warmed their faces while they blinked their eyes open. Andúin yawned and stretched her arms as did Jnían.

"Much warmer," Jnían conceded. "We'll find the cause of the frigidness without a doubt."

Andúin began to rummage through her saddlebag. "I collected some food yesterday, hopefully it will last," she said. They shared breakfast and were discussing their travel plans.

"If we keep up this speed we should make it there in about ten days," Andúin estimated.

"Yes, but I'm almost positive there will be a distraction or two," Jnían put out the fire and Andúin saddled Alata. Andúin flipped through the journal once again to be certain there was no known language inside. Once she got sloe to the back, a small noted fell tot eh ground.

"Jnían, I think I've found something."

"What is it?"

"It's been torn. All there is is the sender and the receiver."

To: Commander Lhach

From: Laiquenius

Matters of Great Importance

"I supposed Commander Lhach isn't the leader of the delegates as we had thought. This Laiquenius must be his authority," Jnían suggested.

"I continue not to see the relationship between delegates, and the black fog," Andúin said. "Speaking of…you said you had knowledge of the stop of it."

"Well, while I was watching the commander," Jnían began, "he spoke of the Dáe staff. I'm not completely aware of its power. All I know is that it can overpower the fog. We are sure to find more information on it at the archives."

In a small amount of time, the girls were back in Rohan once more. It was again dusk, and they were passed Rohan and headed past Fanghorn Forest. They settled down in a tall and wide tree. As they were dozing, Jnían heard a small giggle. She passed it off as her imagination and fell asleep. The next morning, Jnían and Andúin both awoke to the same sound. Standing in front of them was the most interesting creature they had ever seen.

"My tree! My tree! Get out!" it shouted in a small voice.


	4. The First Clue

Andúin immediately drew her sword.

"Please!" it suddenly screamed. "Please don't kill me! I mean you no harm!" It then began to wail an awful high-pitched scream. Andúin immediately dropped her sword to cover her ears, and Jnían did the same.

"Stop that!" Jnían yelled. "We aren't going to hurt you! You just startled us, that's all." It stopped wailing and looked at them through big disks of eyes. It came up to about a human's waist in height. It had small pointed ears and shiny skin. Dark, short, thin hair sprouted from its head. It was clothed in green and brown pants and a shirt. No weapon was visible.

"Who are you?" Andúin asked. "And what?"

"I am Hwesta, and I am an _Alda Bar_, or tree dweller. There aren't many of my kind left, as we have no weapons. People like you come and kill us and send us from our homes." A tear ran down its face. "Did you come to kill Hwesta?"

"We already told you we wouldn't kill you," Andúin said, sheathing her sword. "You scared us. I mean, we've never seen anything like you before."

"Hwesta understands," it said. "I have seen very few humans lately."

"Well, Hwesta, we really need to be on our way," Jnían started.

But Hwesta broke in. "No! Strangers can't leave yet. They have been kind, and they shall be rewarded." It waved its spindly fingers, and suddenly it was levitating at eye-level. "Follow me," he said, then went deeper into the forest.

"Did you see that?" Andúin asked.

"They seem to have some kind of forest magic. That must be why they still survive without weapons," Jnían replied. Then the two of the girls followed Hwesta into the forest.

They rode for about a half of a mile, before they stopped in front of a large tree. Hwesta floated into the tree, and climbed up until he vanished under the thicket of green leaves.

"What is he doing?" Andúin shifted uncomfortably. Finally he returned. Surprisingly the large trunk opened into a doorway. Cautiously Jnían and Andúin followed Hwesta into the tree. They walked down several sets of stairs.

"Because of you," Hwesta started, "Most of us were forced to move down here. Sometimes though, we find it better down here. Not only humans, but animals too, are oblivious to our whereabouts."

They walked through another doorway and before them was a city. A small city, of course, but very complex.

"Fascinating," Jnían remarked.

"Quite," Andúin agreed. A few minutes later they stopped.

"Now, what do you desire?" he waited a beat, "within reason, of course."

"The book," Andúin whispered.

"Yes. We are on our way to Rivendell to translate this journal in the archives. The language is a mystery," Jnían finished.

"Ahhhhh…..we can help you, you are in luck. We are masters of language," Hwesta said with pride. "Come, this way." They were behind him again, the excitement building in their stomachs. They came to a small hut and went inside. Sitting at a cluttered table was an older version of Hwesta.

"Raíne? This is…." He trailed off. Jnían was busy looking around.

"Oh. Jnían and Andúin," Andúin gestured to each of them.

"Yes, Jnían and Andúin," Hwesta said. "They need something translated."

"Fine. What is it?" Raíne asked in a raspy voice.

"This," Andúin handed him the journal. Raíne opened the journal and flipped through some pages.

"Derellish…the shadow language. This is rarely ever used. I'm not sure if you would find this in archives, but it definitely exists," he said.

"What does it say?" Andúin asked.

"Hold on…are you trying to find the Dáe staff?" Raíne prompted.

"We are," Jnían answered.

"Well, it's not in one piece, from what I see…it's in four. You have to follow the clues and find it. There's no other way. There's a location, and instructions for the beginning of the quest."

"What are they?" Andúin asked, determined.

Hwesta starred at the book. "It says to start where the city touches the clouds. Do you know where that is?"

"The Valor," Andúin said. "The starting point is Minas Tirith. That must be why those people were in Osgiliath."

"That's a large city," Jnían said. "Does it describe the location in any more detail?"

"It says very little," the elder said. "Wait, here. I think I found it. 'The token which is sought shall be under the mark of the ruler of Men, tall and white as stone.'" He stopped. "That is all it says. Does it mean anything to you?"

"We shall make sense of it later," Jnían said. "What of the other locations?"

"Patience, my child," he said. "I shall place each translation into the amulet. When you get to each location, the next shall be revealed to you. But if this falls back into the wrong hands, everything shall be lost. I shall give you the amulet come morning's light." He turned and exited the room.

"The girls were given food, drink, and sleeping quarters fro the night. "I believe I have solved the riddle," Jnían said. "I think it us under a marble statue of Elessar."

"There is one in our Great Hall," Andúin said. "Maybe it is there. But I hope we can leave as soon as possible. Lhach and hid men have probably already translated the first inscription. We have to find it first."

Finally the sun rose. They were awoken by Hwesta. "Here," he said, handing Jnían an amulet. It had a small blue gem centered in a silver plaque. She put the chain around her neck.

"We must be going," Andúin told him, and he led them out of the forest.

"May the grace of our people protect you," he said as they mounted their horses.

"And may the grace of the valor be with you always," Jnían said to him as they rode off. When they looked back at him, he had vanished.

They rode steady for three days to the borders of Gondor. They camped in the same spot they had less then eight days ago. Jnían had been feeling uneasy since they left Rohan. She sensed something was wrong, but didn't know what it was.

"Suddenly, Andúin had a thought. "Jnían, I know where the token is. It's not under the statue; it's under the White Tree. It has been symbolic of the Kings of Gondor for thousands of years!"

Jnían smiled at her, this thought giving her new hope. But they suddenly heard a twig break behind them. They both jumped up, swords drawn. Figures came out of the darkness into their firelight.

"Drop your swords," one of them commanded. The girls didn't move. But suddenly more came, surrounding them. They were outnumbered.

"Thank you girls for telling us the location of the first token," a man said. "We would have had a hard time finding it ourselves."

"I'm sorry gentlemen, but I don't think any of you will live long enough to reach it," Jnían signaled. All of a sudden they both ran in opposite directions pushing through the crown as fast as they could. Seconds later they both vanished with the forest. Now they had the element of surprise. Jnían quickly slid off Amáteria onto the ground. She climbed up a tree and moved from one to another until show was silently hovering over the delegates. Lhach cursed loudly.

"Come on! We must reach Minas Tirith before them. And watch you backs," he commanded. Jnían estimated Andúin to be about five feet behind the delegates, hiding. The delegates filed into two lines, and began to ride off. Just as the last one passed under the tree Jnían hopped on his horse. Before he could make any noise, Jnían knocked him unconscious with Ranafëa. Andúin raced from behind the trees and took on the other line. Both Jnían and Andúin avoided killing anyone. Once they reached Lhach, he had no idea what was going on behind him. Andúin stopped his horse while Jnían bound his hands with a rope. She secured him to a tree and then they continued on to Minas Tirith.

About an hour later it began to rain hard. They considered taking shelter, but decided it was more important to continue on. Amáteria and Alata swiftly plashed through mud, not faltering in the least. Andúin and Jnían's hair clung to them after being thoroughly saturated with rain. They finally stopped for camp in a small cavern. A small fire was aglow and giving heat to the clammy hands and feet of the girls.

"What business do the delegates have with the Dáe staff?" Andúin wondered aloud.

"I'm not quite sure," Jnían answered. "The elder tree elf spoke of the danger of it falling into the wrong hands. It muse have power of good, and of evil. This gives us more determination to find it then."

'Well, I'm not anxious to return to Minas Tirith. The last thing I need is my father's worry and concern," Andúin sighed.

"My mother wishes for me to marry an Elf from Rivendell. He has asked me several times, and I continue to decline. He won't give up," Jnían spoke what was on her mind.

"Don't let your mother pressure you into something. She probably wants what's best for you, but sometimes doing the right thing isn't doing the right thing," Andúin said matter-of-factly. Jnían glanced up at her seriously.

"I'm sorry," Andúin started, "It's not my place."

"No reason for apologies," Jnían said, "you're right. Sometimes being rational isn't the answer…We should rest now, we'll start early."

A day passed, and they finally reached Minas Tirith. They decided to go at night and try to retrieve the token. There was a problem, though. How would they get to it?

"There's no possible way to reach it without damaging the tree. We cannot risk it," Andúin stated.

"There is a dungeon in Minas Tirith…"Jnían said, waiting for conformation.

"Yes, it's within the cliff. It was been here since the beginning of the city…oh, I see. It will be dark soon, we should get ready."

Once it was dusk, the girls made their way into the city. Finally, they made into the damp and dark dungeon. They searched front to back, and couldn't find anything. In the last cell they stopped for a moment.

"What a waste of time," Andúin leaned her hand against a stone relic. It begun to slide into the wall, as the wall opened.

"Not quite," Jnían replied with a smile on her face. The small room was covered with dust and cobwebs. Andúin moved the torch forward. On the back wall was writing. It read, 'Wait until the full moon shines, the amulet will show you the way.' Both girls studied it quizzically.

"There's a full moon tonight," Andúin said. Jnían noticed an engraving in the wall. A perfect fit for the amulet she held around her neck.

"Wait," Jnían pulled the amulet from her neck and placed it in the wall. The moon shone through a hole in the cliff, into the amulet, and pointed to the East wall of the room. Jnían immediately followed it. She pushed on the stone block. It was loose. She pulled it out. Inside was a small chest and key. Jnían carefully removed them, while Andúin silently watched. She opened the chest, and found a number of things. There was a large diamond, a scroll, and a shrouded object. Andúin pulled out the scroll. Jnían scanned over the other items. She removed the shrouded item and unraveled it. There was a pure gold rod about a foot and a half's length.

"It's the bottom of the staff," Andúin explained from the scroll. "It gives more instructions to find the next piece."

"Wait, before we continue we should put this in a safe place. Perhaps we should leave it with Meshía, I trust her," Jnían said.

They left the dungeon without a problem. They were beginning to ride out of the city. They passed a silent marketplace, some of the carts still containing the goods that didn't sell from the previous day. Andúin leaned from Alata as they went past the cart and grabbed an apple.

"Isn't that stealing?" Jnían asked her.

"Not when you're trying to save the world," Andúin answered in between bites. "It's common courtesy to offer an apple to the heroine."

The two of them laughed together. They approached the gate deep in conversation. Suddenly, they heard the sound of many footfalls. They stopped. Guards from the gate surrounded them. They girls realized that they had forgotten to put of their hoods.

"Lady Andúin!" one of them said. "Your father has been worried sick about you!"

"Captain Thalion," Andúin said, recognizing him. "That's very unnecessary."

"No, it is not," he said. "You could have been in very real danger. You are very important to this country, and your father…"

Andúin sighed. Jnían just looked between her, the Captain, and the soldiers, looking confused.

"I think we should go up to the castle at once," the captain said. He motioned his men and they escorted the girls back up to the castle.

They came to the great courtyard. The new rising sun's orange rays shone on the white tree. They entered the Great Hall. Lord Eldarion was already seated in his throne.

He jumped up when they entered. "Andúin!" he exclaimed, and rushed toward her, pulling her into an embrace. "Where have you been?"

"Father, I…" she started but he suddenly interrupted her.

"Who is that?" he said, gesturing at Jnían.

"Father, that's my friend Jnían," Andúin said quickly. Jnían bowed.

"Jnían? Daughter of Akanara, daughter of Lord Elrond of Rivendell?" he said, peering at her.

Jnían looked at him, confused. She was told by Lady Galadriel that her mother had been an orphan of unknown parents all her life. Suddenly someone she didn't even know was telling her her grandfather was Elrond.

Andúin was just as confused. Elrond was her great-grandfather, and that would make her actually related to Jnían.

Eldarion looked in between them, and then cleared her throat. "Captain, I'm sure Lady Jnían's mother is very worried about her as well. Take some of your men and escort her back to Lórien and apologize to her mother about her gallivanting with my daughter."

"Yes, my lord," the captain said, extending his arm to Jnían. She gingerly took it and walked wit him from the room. Several men exited after them. Jnían gave Andúin one last look, then went through the door.

After everyone had left, Eldarion looked sternly at Andúin. "I can't believe you did this," he said. "It's completely out of your character. If you are trying to gain my trust, this did not help." He massaged his temples. "Now, we shall discuss this later."

He left the room, leaving Andúin standing there, the piece of the staff in her hand.


	5. A Major Setback

Jnían solemnly was led away by the guards of Minas Tirith.

"You can release me," Jnían commanded. "I don't need an escort. I know where I live, and I can take care of myself. I advise you to be careful." Jnían trotted toward the outside of the guards. They blocked all gaps and trapped her inside.

"Very well," Jnían said lightly, retreating to the center of the circle once again. Once twilight came, they stopped for camp. When the guards were asleep, Jnían snuck over to Amáteria and started to leave.

"That would not be wise, milady. Apparently you will be missed at home as well as Andúin," a voice called from the shadows. Jnían, disappointed that she couldn't escape now, settled for a quick getaway once they reached Lothlórien. Two days passed, and they finally reached their destination. They came to the forest of Lórien and they stopped.

"You shall continue on from here," Captain Thalion said. "We shall return to Minas Tirith were we belong."

Jnían entered the forest, and soon she met her mother. "Where have you been?" Akanara shouted.

"I was in my time of mourning," Jnían replied.

"A day or two is appropriate, Jnían, but three weeks? You disappoint me, daughter," her mother continued.

Jnían looked at her mother, exasperated. She was at a loss for words. How could her mother even begin to understand her? She turned and stalked from the room. "You had better not be sneaking off again," her mother yelled after her.

She went up to her room. She had to get back to Minas Tirith. She decided to wait until nightfall to plan her escape. This episode has been a major hindrance to their task, and she and Andúin had to get back on track quickly. She moved over to a candle and set the scroll and diamond on the desk. They scroll was tightly closed with a seal, and she decided not to open it until she was with Andúin again.

She unwrapped the half-covered diamond. It sparkled in the candlelight. It was bigger than her fist, and sent light all around the room. She quickly rewrapped it. She walked over to her window, peering out at her people. They were all so calm, unknowing of the evil coming. It felt good to be in this false peace, compared to her last three weeks.

Night soon fell, and she picked up the scroll and diamond, putting them under her arm. She climbed silently down the steps to where Amáteria awaited her. She placed the objects in a small saddlebag along with her sword safely in its scabbard securely on her horse.

She mounted her horse and trotted away as quietly as possible. She luckily was able to escape without everyone noticing.

Once they were out of the forest, she nudged Amáteria into a swift run. She galloped across Rohan through the whole night until sunrise before she even braked. Amáteria walked a short distance from where Jnían sat on the ground and began to graze.

Jnían pulled out an apple, and looking at it thought of Andúin a few nights ago. She wondered what her fate had been with her father, and whether she would be able to escape. She sighed, and then bit into the apple.

Suddenly, she heard a twig snap behind her. She jumped up. She spun around and climbed up to the top of the bank she was on. She lay down on her stomach and carefully peered over the edge.

Down below her, she saw a figure in mostly black armor. They had a white tree on their vest, and a black helmet covering their hair and face. Jnían recognized them as a soldier for Gondor, and lay closer to the ground. It was odd for one to be this deep in Rohan, and she thought it might be one of her escorts. If he saw and recognized her, she would be straight back in Lothlórien.

She pulled her hood over her face. She then back up slowly, but she had her eyes focused on the soldier instead of behind her. She tripped over a rock and fell backwards down the bank. She landed hard, knocking the breath from her. Before she could stand back up, a sword was lying across her throat.

"Rise," a deep voice commanded. It sounded rough and raspy. She slowly pushed herself up. The soldier stood before her, sword unsheathed. But suddenly Jnían drew her sword, catching the soldier off guard. But they were still able to block her sword as Jnían meant to bring it down upon them. The soldier reached out and grabbed Jnían by the waist.

"Remove your hood!" the soldier commanded her, but Jnían jumped backwards in their grip, slamming her foot down on the soldier's boot with all her strength.

The soldier yelled in pain, but suddenly his deep voice was much higher and lighter. Jnían froze, shocked. She soldier released her, and Jnían jumped back, pulling off her hood.

"Jnían!" the soldier said, her voice back to normal. "I didn't realize it was you."

"Take off that helmet, Andúin," Jnían said, and Andúin did as she asked. Her hair fell loosely onto her shoulders. "You really scared me," Jnían said. "But I was just coming to get you. I found it odd to see a soldier of Gondor just wandering around Rohan."

Andúin laughed. "I had to wear this to sneak out. No one recognized me, so no one thought anything of it. I thought I was never going to get away though."

"Your father is not going to be happy when he sees you have left."

"Like your mother is going to be any better?" They laughed, happy to be together again.

"You did a really good job of disguising your voice," Jnían said. "Between that and your armor, this might prove useful."

"You think?' Andúin said. "That would be great. You wouldn't believe all it took to get away."

"Tell me," Jnían said. So Andúin began to recount the last few days.

Andúin had walked out onto the courtyard. She walked over to the White Tree, placing her hand upon it. She ran her hand down the smooth bark. A blossom fell from the tree, landing at her feet. She looked down at the piece of the staff in her hand. The gold caught the sunlight, reflecting it. She needed to get back to Jnían soon.

She walked toward the gates leading to the rest of the city. Guards stood blocking the door. "Sorry, milady," one said to her. "But your father said not to let you past.

She turned and walked back up to the castle, frustrated. If her father had guards there, he probably had them everywhere to keep her in the city. She walked up the high staircase to the watchtower to ponder what to do.

Looking down over the city, she watched several soldiers enter and leave the gates. Suddenly, and idea came to her. She ran back down the stairs and back onto the courtyard.

She looked at the guards and noticed they were deep in conversation. She walked to the edge of the cliff and carefully lowered herself over the edge.

She edged herself along the sheer rock wall to past the gate. She then puller herself back up, safely on solid ground again. Her heart was beating hard in her chest, and she gave one last look over the cliff before running away.

She ran through the city towards the guards' towers near the bottom. She peered at them from behind another building. There were soldiers everywhere. She ran behind buildings over to the door. She the quickly snuck in to the building and ran to uniform storage.

She threw open the door to the room and saw row after row of armor and helmets. She looked through them as fast as she could, looking for a small one. Just as she was putting the vest of one over the chain mail she had pulled on, she heard footsteps outside the door. She grabbed the nearest helmet, rolled her hair up on her head, and pulled the helmet on. It was much too big, coming down almost over her eyes, but abruptly the door burst open and she had no time to exchange it.

A man came in, giving her a sideways glance. He grabbed a helmet and muttered something to her about wasting time. Just when she thought he was leaving, he stopped and held the door for her, beckoning her out. She quickly kicked her discarded dress under the uniforms, grabbed Andúril, and went out the door.

"Thank you," she muttered, disguising her voice. It sounded raspy, but the man didn't seem to notice much. She walked back outside, and much to her relief the man left her.

Suddenly, an awful thought hit her, Alata was still up at the castle, and she couldn't get to him. She would have to ride one of the army's horses. She walked over to the stables.

Walking inside, she could smell hay, leather, and saddle soap. She loved the smell. She heard several horses neighing. She carefully inspected every horse until she found the perfect one. He was a tall blue roan, and looked to be fast and strong. He went by the name of Ithil.

She saddled him up, also in typical armor, and rode him out of the stables and out the city gates, no questions asked.

"So anyway," Andúin continued, "I stopped to make camp and didn't tie him up. I never tied Alata up, he always just stayed. And when I found you, I was searching for him.

"I'll help you find him," Jnían said.

The two girls searched for the horse. "Hush...I hear something," Jnían said.

"Me too," Andúin replied.

"I think it's…" Jnían pushed through some bushes. "Yes, look." Before them was Ithil chewing on a patch of soft green grass.

"There you are," Andúin said. As Andúin approached him from behind, she startled him and he began to buck. Finally Jnían and Andúin settled him.

"Jnían! What are you doing?" a voice shouted. "What are you up to?"

"Mother, this is my friend Andúin."

"Nice to meet you, Andúin," she replied, then shifted her attention. "Jnían, we had this discussion yesterday. You can't leave. We are expected in Rivendell in one week."

"Mother, I am not going. If Teleríus asks to wed me one more time…"

"Jnían," Andúin whispered. "We should get going."

Jnían nodded. "Goodbye, mother." Jnían turned and the girls rode away. Akanara began to chase them. Once she realized they were too fast, she stopped and headed back home.


	6. The Second Clue

NOTE TO READER: Please, we REALLY need reveiws on this...it is due in just a few weeks, and we were reluctant to place it on the internet in the first place. You wouldn't be able to beleive how badly we would just like to hear a few words of 'coming along great' or 'thats really terrible.' If you are reading it at least, you have our sincerest thank you, and please, just take a minute to leave your mark. Thanks again, _Hannon Le._

They rode for a couple of hours and then set up camp. Jnían pulled out the scroll from her saddlebag. Though Amáteria had no saddle, the bags she could still use. She also removed a small piece of paper. She went to sit next to Andúin, who was poking at the fire.

"What's that?" she asked, referring to the piece of paper.

"It's the basis of Derellish. Just a simple alphabet so we can translate small words and phrases if needed. I copied it out of one of their encyclopedias. The elder tree Elf had it lying out."

A few minutes later Jnían proudly spoke the scrolls contents, glad to be done with the translation.

"'_The finish of the first_

_war of the ring,_

_The remaining shards_

_of the sword of the king,_

_A scene forever frozen in time,_

_shows the way to the second sign.'"_

Andúin concentrated. Jnían said it to herself over and over. "…the remaining shards of the sword of the king…it must be talking about Narsil," Jnían stated.

"You mean before it became Andúril?" Andúin inquired.

"Yes. I understand the sword part, but what boggles me is the last part. 'A scene forever frozen in time.'"

Andúin pulled out some bread for Jnían and herself, taking a bite. "Maybe it means a picture," she guessed.

"You're marvelous!" Jnían threw her arms around Andúin. "That's it! A picture! In Rivendell, Narsil as you know was kept in broken shards. Behind it on the wall is a picture of the ends of the first War of the Ring. Narsil is in the picture! We have to go to Rivendell to find our next clue."

"I can't believe it! We figured it out! We must be ahead of the delegates by now. I wonder where they are right now." Andúin exclaimed.

"Don't worry yourself, Andúin, they'll come to us," Jnían stated. "We should get some sleep, we have to leave early."

The next morning at the break of the dawn, Andúin and Jnían awoke ready for their new quest. When the girls reached Rivendell days later, they went straight to the House of Elrond, still called that out of respect for the great Elvin leader.

"Andúin, you can't go to the party in Minas Tirith armor," Jnían said.

"Well, I didn't exactly bring clothes to change into," Andúin replied, irritated.

"I know," Jnían swiftly walked down the corridor until they reached her room.

"Where are we going?" Andúin asked.

"My quarters," she answered, pushing the door open.

"You live here? I thought you lived in Lothlórien," Andúin stated.

"I do live there, but I'm the granddaughter of Elrond. More or less an Elvin princess. I'm considered a special guest, if you get my drift. I lived here until I was old enough, and skilled enough to care for Andúril, then I moved," Jnían explained.

"I see," Andúin said to herself, registering the information. The girls walked into a large room.

"Let's see," Jnían said, thinking aloud. She walked over to her closet and opened the door. "We're about the same size, so you can wear this, and a cape, and you can be my maidservant. You can't show your face or they'll know you are human. It's not that we don't like humans, but you weren't exactly invited." Jnían handed Andúin a peach colored gown and matching shoes. Then she began to pull out a gown for herself.

"Are you sure no one will recognize me?" Andúin worriedly asked.

"I'm sure. It's rude to question one another about their servants. No one at the party is about to be rude," Jnían reassured her.

The girls changed, washed up, and began to plan. "Okay, the picture is exactly fifty steps from the main hall, where the party will be taking place," Andúin reviewed.

"That's right," Jnían said, pulling a brush through her long blond hair.

Later on, the party began, and the girls made their way to the main hall. Once they reached the door they were stopped by Akanara. "It is good to see you, daughter," she said to Jnían.

"As with you, mother," Jnían replied.

"Who is this?" Akanara asked, motioning to Andúin, who pulled her shawl more tightly over her face, only her eyes revealed.

"Mother, it's my maidservant Catlín."

"I thought you never brought your maidservants here," Akanara said suspiciously.

"I need someone here with me, with Teleríus breathing down my neck," Jnían snapped.

"I don't see why you avoid him, dear. He's kind and handsome."

"Yes, and he knows he is. He's very conceited and arrogant," Jnían sighed. "Come, Catlín." Andúin silently followed her. Jnían paid her respects and said her hellos at the party.

"Alright," she whispered to Andúin. "Let us go." They nonchalantly stepped out of the room and into the vestibule. About a minute later they were standing before the historical picture.

"Now what?" Andúin shifted impatiently.

"There must be some hidden clue," Jnían guessed.

"What are you doing out here?" someone asked. Jnían jerked her head towards the voice.

"Who are you?" Andúin fired, forgetting that she was not to speak.

"I pose you with the same question," he replied.

"She's my maidservant, Catlín, Teleríus," Jnían interrupted.

"What are you doing?" he repeated.

"None of your business," Jnían shot out.

"I live here, there for it is my business," Teleríus replied.

"He's going to talk," Jnían prophesized. The girls walked over to Teleríus, and grabbed him by the arms. Jnían wrapped a cord in his mouth, and tied it around his head, while Andúin tied his arms and legs. They leaned him against the wall. He started to struggle, so Andúin knocked him unconscious with the hilt of her sword.

"It looks as if the picture is directing towards the statue," Jnían said. She motioned at the picture, and it did indeed seem as though the drawn Isiliadur was pointing the blade of his sword toward a nearby statue. Jnían approached it, studying it carefully. "This is where Narsil used to lay."

Andúin walked up to the statue, studying it as well. She looked at the platform once holding Narsil. "Now that I see it," she said to Jnían, "I begin to wonder if it was right to ever disturb Narsil. I mean, I know the story of its importance, but it was almost—I don't know," she broke off, staring at the spot.

"You shouldn't feel bad," Jnían said. "It was the right thing to do. Your grandmother, the Lady Arwen, believed so."

Andúin sighed. She drew Andúril, and out of respect she placed it on its old resting place. Suddenly, the statue made a creaking noise. The platform holding the sword and the statue's outstretched arms began to slide down.

"Good work, Andúin," Jnían exclaimed. Andúin remained frozen to the spot, shocked.

The statue revealed a gaping hole. Jnían reached past Andúin, still unmoving, and reached in. "There is another piece of parchment," she said, pulling out an old, wrinkled piece. "It's another clue."

"Can you read this one?" Jnían asked her, finally coming to.

"No," Jnían replied. "It is in Derellish also."

Suddenly they heard footsteps in the hallway. "They cannot see the statue like this!" Jnían exclaimed.

"Forget the statue," Andúin replied. "What will they think of Teleríus?" But she grabbed Andúril and the statue began to recluse. Jnían positioned herself in front of it and Andúin quickly moved to conceal Teleríus.

A lady came around the corner. "I heard raised voices, then more loud noises. Are you girls—"she trailed off, noticing Andúin. "By the Valor, Jnían, she means to kill you!"

Jnían looked at Andúin, and saw she had her sword drawn and poised with her face covered. Andúin noticed this herself, and immediately sheathed the sword.

"She didn't mean me any harm," Jnían said, keeping her voice calm.

"Then who is she, and what is she doing here?" the Elf demanded. Andúin quickly ran her fingers through her hair, concealing any remaining parts of her human ears.

"Catlín, my maidservant, was demonstrating a skill with the sword," Jnían swiftly answered.

"A maidservant with a sword?" the lady questioned.

"I think of her more as my friend, I don't need her to take care of me," Jnían replied.

"Very well, Jnían," the Elf replied, her voice heavy. "But be careful nevertheless." She shot a look at Andúin, and then walked from the room.

"That was close," Andúin sighed.

"Yes, almost too close," Jnían said with relief. "We have to do something with Teleríus."

"He's still unconscious," Andúin suggested, "Let's just put him to bed." Jnían winced at her, but agreed. They carried him to his chambers, untied him, and placed him in his bed.

"Sweet dreams," Jnían whispered while adjusting his head on the pillow. They tiptoed out of the room and back to Jnían's quarters.

"I'm exhausted," Andúin yawned.

"We should sleep here tonight. We should be safe, the delegates are far enough behind us that we shouldn't have to leave until tomorrow," Jnían said. "Besides, we still need to translate our next clue." Andúin and Jnían simultaneously threw themselves back on the extremely large bed.

"Ah, a bed," Andúin said, sinking deeply into the padding.

"After a while, even the ground feels soft," Jnían chuckled. The girls prepared for sleep and climbed into bed. Jnían pulled the woven gold cord releasing the canopy, protecting them from any peering eyes, just in case someone may intrude in the morning.

"If anyone finds out you're here, you'll go straight back home," Jnían predicted to Andúin.

"Mmm.." Andúin's eyes were falling shut.

"Goodnight," Jnían whispered, closing her own eyes.

The next morning Jnían blinked her eyes open at a knock on the door.

"Milady?" a voice asked.

"Hold on," Jnían answered. "I'm not decent." She turned her head. "Andúin?" she called. Andúin wasn't there. Jnían began to panic, again calling her name. She pulled open the canopy and retied the cord. On the bedside was a small note.

_A Trade_

_The piece…or her life_

_-Lhach_

'_ANDÚIN!"_' Jnían screamed in her mind. Finally the maid opened the door uninvited.

"Beautiful day, Milady," she said, smiling.

Jnían's eyes turned a dark blue. "It feels cloudy," she managed. Jnían flipped over the note and began to read the back.

"Please leave me," Jnían requested. The woman exited. The note told her to meet at the gates of Minas Tirith. Jnían walked to her balcony and let out a shrill whistle. Seconds later Aátrius was on her shoulder. "Find her, Aátrius, I have other things to attend to. Once you have found her, come and find me," she said to him. Aátrius flew off.

Jnían made her way from the House of Elrond and into the streets of Rivendell to find a blacksmith. Once she found one, she showed him the base of the Dáe staff.

"Can you make this out of gold?" she asked.

"Of course, if you have the money," he explained. She paid him.

"Give it as many imperfections as you can without changing the base features," she commanded.

"Alright, if that's what you want," he said, getting to work.

"Yes," Jnían said, then whispered more to herself, "Be safe, Andúin." She closed her eyes. A cat and dog began to fight near her, knocking over a bowl of fruit. A single orange rolled across the wooden floor until it bumped into Jnían's feet. She picked it up and began peeling it, hoping Andúin was alright.

Andúin awoke, her head throbbing. She felt sick to the stomach; and it didn't help that she was being jostled around like a rag doll. She opened her eyes to see the ground. It bounced unsteadily. She slowly became more aware, noting the horse's body she was on, and that a hand was placed on her back. She tried to turn herself over, but her hands and feet were tightly bound.

"Ah," she heard a voice say, "The lady awakens. And this time she is not at an advantage." Then another wave of dizziness overtook her, and everything went dark.

When she awoke again, she was feeling better. She had stopped moving, and night had fallen. She was in a clearing, and there was a fire nearby surrounded by men. One rose and approached her. "So you are feeling better?" he asked.

She immediately recognized Lhach. "I should have killed you when I had the chance," she spat.

"But you didn't!" he gloated. "And because of your stupidity, we shall soon have the piece from the Elf girl."

"She wouldn't risk the well being of everything good in Middle Earth just to save me," she replied.

"I wouldn't be so sure. But even if she doesn't, we shall still get something from this…situation. Fortunately, one of my men recognized you as King Eldarion's only child; which means he will do anything to get you back."

He continued to talk, but Andúin didn't listen. The situation was very bad, and she couldn't see any way out of it, at least not at the present moment.

"…and my guard found this armor with you, and figured it might be a very useful distraction when we get there, and you could easily and unsuspicious get us into the city."

She looked at him. "You actually believe I would do that for you?"

"I have a host of armed men at my call," Lhach said coldly. "And you are one woman. I believe that you will do as we ask, or much worse things can happen then being killed."

She glared at him, but he smiled. "Tathar," he summoned, and a man came up to him. "Keep sentry over her. Make sure she stays where she is."

"Yes, Captain," Tathar said, and he drew his sword.

"Here you are, Milady," the blacksmith handed over the replica of the piece. Jnían took back the original piece, rewrapping it. She put the forged piece in clean white wrappings.

"Thank you," she said and walked out. She mounted Amáteria and began her journey to Minas Tirith. On the seventh day she was in Rohan, making her way toward the Pebble Inn in the Westfold.

"What is it?" Meshía asked.

"I need you to keep this for me," Jnían replied. "My friend, she has been taken and I need to get her back." She handed Meshía the real piece of the staff.

"Stay the night here, Jnían, please," Meshía asked. "You look horrible and exhausted. You need some rest."

"Alright, but I leave at first light," Jnían surrendered. She ate a small bit of food, and then went to bed. All she could think about was Andúin.

A few days later Jnían was still going toward Gondor when she met Teleríus. "Ah, where are you headed, young lady?" he asked her.

"How did you get here?" she asked.

"I followed you," he replied. Jnían looked puzzled, so he continued. "Don't fret, my dear, we will go back home."

"I'm going nowhere with you," Jnían snapped.

"Oh but you are," he replied smugly. Guards from Rivendell and Lothlórien came and grabbed a hold of Amáteria. "You see, your mother has agreed for you to marry me. So we will be wed within the fortnight."

"I most certainly will not," was her simple reply.

"So sorry, darling, but you cannot stop me."

"That's what you think," she challenged silently, then followed their lead. At dusk the group stopped to water the horses, while Jnían and Amáteria were tied to a tree. Just then something came out of the forest. Jnían smiled; it was Hwesta.

"Here, mi'lady," he said softly as he cut the ropes.

"Hwesta, what are you doing here?" she whispered.

"Us tree elves have a task to complete before we can become a member of the council. Not that many elves are chosen to complete it. My task is to help you complete your ask. So I am at your service, my dear."

"Well, Andúin's been kidnapped, the delegates want the piece of the staff in exchange for her, and this man wants to marry me," Jnían sighed, filling him in.

"Sounds like you're rather busy," he chuckled as the two started off towards Minas Tirith.


	7. A Daring Rescue

NOTE TO READER-We want to give EXTREME thanks to our ONE reveiwer we have had. I know, I hate reading stories that beg for reveiws, but we really do need them. We may be presenting this week or the following one, so look for extreme and major updates over the next few days or so. Thanks again to our reviewer, we hope to see more.

After what seemed like an eternity Andúin and her captors arrived at Minas Tirith. Two days earlier, she had been forced back into her armor, which made it even more uncomfortable to be forcibly moved around.

Night had fallen, and the large stone city was silhouetted against the mountains. "Now," Lhach said to her, "Do you understand your orders?"

"Yes," she whispered solemnly, pulling on her helmet.

"Remember, don't try anything foolish, just do as instructed," he warned.

Andúin felt sick to her stomach as she mounted the horse they gave her. She walked the short distance to the city. They wanted her to distract the guards' attention while they snuck into the city. Lhach had told her more would be explained after that, and threatened her against any way of escape. She worried that they might be after her father, and she did not want to be responsible for anything happening to him. The problem was, she didn't see any way out of the situation at the moment.

She arrived at the large gates, which opened for her. The night guards approached her. "Were you a part of one of the parties searching for Lady Andúin?" the lead one said. She recognized him, but not the other two.

"Yes, Captain Thalion," she lied in her disguised voice. "I lost the rest of my party when we were attacked by a group of bandits. I believe none were killed, but I was separated from them."

"Have you seen any trace of Lady Andúin?" the captain asked.

"No," she replied. This had to be the most awkward thing she had ever done.

"Why did you return?" the captain demanded.

She stuttered, trying to think of a reason for betraying orders.

"Speak now, lieutenant."

"I was completely lost, and when I saw the city I figured I could find rest, get my bearings, and set out in the morning." She chanced a glance over her shoulder and saw Lhach and his men beginning to enter under the cover of darkness.

"Fine," the captain said, sounding slightly annoyed. "Follow me." Andúin felt relaxed. If he took her out of Lhach's sight, she was safe and could tell the truth. But her plans were never able to take form.

"Look at his sword!" one of the other soldiers suddenly exclaimed. He reached out, pulling Andúril from its scabbard. He carefully examined the writing on the blade. A lump formed in Andúin's throat. Andúril was famous throughout Middle Earth, but especially so in Gondor. It would be quickly recognized. "I can't read this Elvish, what does it say?"

"I don't know, I took it from the body of a foe last season," Andúin said quickly, glad for the other man's ignorance of the Elvish language. She reached for her sword. "Now if I can just have it back…"

"Hang on," Captain Thalion said. "I can read it for you, son." He took the sword and began to translate the inscription.

Andúin lunged at him, grabbing for Andúril before he could read it. But she only had the hilt in her hand a second before and arm reached around her waist and a sword pressed into her throat.

"Gentlemen," Lhach's calm voice suddenly commanded. "Take me to King Eldarion."

Captain Thalion looked solemnly at Andúin. "Now it is time to keep your vows, Knight of Gondor," he said to her, then looked at Lhach. "You can kill the boy. We shall not take you to the king."

Lhach began to laugh. One of his men came up at his command and pulled off Andúin's helmet, revealing her face and allowing her auburn hair to spill onto her shoulders.

"Mi'Lady!" Captain Thalion suddenly exclaimed. "We shall do your demands."

"No!" Andúin cried, and she swung the Andúril wildly, remembering it was still in her hand. She slammed it into one of Lhach's nearby men, and the hilt hit Lhach's shoulder. He released her instantly, and she continued to wield the sword. She picked up her discarded helmet, using it as a makeshift shield against her enemies' incoming sword blows. She pushed her way through the men, closer and closer to a waiting horse.

"Goodbye, Captain Thalion!" she yelled as she reached the animal, jumping onto it and charging out the still open city gate, feeling free at last. She was just pulling her helmet back over her head when she heard the sound of hooves behind her.

She looked over her shoulder to see a few men still fighting with the guards, but Lhach and the others were in hot pursuit of her. She slammed her feet harder into her horse's side, but the delegates continued to rapidly gain ground. Soon Lhach's larger horse was at her side.

"Picked the wrong horse, girl," he laughed, positioning his horse as close to hers as the stirrups would allow. He released his reins for a moment, pushing her with all of his strength from her horse. She screamed as she tumbled from its back, landing on her scabbard. Pain shot through her right leg, but she clenched her teeth and began to run on foot anyway. If only by some miracle she could reach the shelter of Osgiliath…but it was far from her still, and there was no where to hide on the expanse of Pelennor.

She could hear hoof beats behind her as she tried to formulate a plan in her head. She tried to run harder, but her leg failed her, and she collapsed to the ground, gasping. A horse stopped near her, and the rider dismounted. She felt herself picked up by the back of her vest, and was soon looking into Lhach's dark eyes.

"How dare you do that to me!" he yelled at her, his words echoing in her ears. "I would kill you now if I didn't need that piece! I won't be fooled by a woman's tricks again." He remounted his horse, pulling her on too. He called for his other men, and they tore off at a gallop back toward Rohan and the rising sun.

_Please,_ Andúin thought, _Jnían, if you can hear me, help me._

Jnían caught sight of Lhach and the other delegates from within the trees. "Hwesta," remove the piece from my bag," Jnían commanded. He did what was told from where he was seated on Amáteria in front of Jnían. She decided to wait about an hour before she rescued Andúin. The delegates were much too alert from the battle they must have had. Jnían could tell there was a fight by the wounded men in the back of the two rows.

Finally Jnían charged at the back of the group. Hwesta was still seated in front of her, with the piece in his small hands. Amáteria easily caught up to Lhach. She knew it was going to be difficult because Andúin was sitting in front of him. Once she was behind him, she swung the piece and it slammed against his skull. Blood flowed into Andúin's blowing hair. Lhach immediately pulled out a dagger and bought it towards Andúin. She moved away just in time for the dagger to slice her cheek, nothing more. It bled a little, but Andúin lost her balance and fell from Lhach's galloping horse. She would have hit the ground, but her ankle was tangled in the stirrup so she was going to be trampled by the horse. As she fell, Jnían managed to grab her with her free hand. Lhach immediately went for the piece, blood still protruding from his wound. Jnían kept a firm grip on it, though she knew she would need her other hand to retrieve Andúin.

"Give it to me," Lhach commanded. "NOW!" Jnían reluctantly let go, and reached for Andúin. She was able to pull Andúin up on Amáteria behind her. Lhach quickly rode off in a different direction with the other men. Andúin sighed with relief and leaned her head on Jnían's back.

"How come you gave up the piece so easily?" she asked.

"Not easily, but you're more important besides," Jnían said quickly.

"I would have been fine," Andúin interrupted, her face serious.

"It wasn't the actual piece," Jnían said.

"What? What do you mean? I saw it. It was gold and shaped the same…" Andúin's face betrayed her confused feeling.

"Of course it was," Jnían confirmed. "I had the real one forged to trick Lhach into handing you over. I had planned to negotiate, but you were on the move and I was getting impatient."

"She certainly was," Hwesta chimed in.

Andúin looked startled at the sound of his voice. She hadn't even noticed him. "What are you doing here?" she asked.

"I'm here to help, of course," he stated proudly.

"Where to now, then?" Andúin asked, satisfied with his simple response.

"First, back to Minas Tirith to get Alata. Hopefully I won't run into Teleríus again. That's what kept me so long. He tried to take me back to Rivendell, but Hwesta came to my rescue," she smiled.

"Anything to help mi'lady," he giggled sheepishly.

"Once we retain Alata we shall look for our next clue," Jnían continued. Amáteria rounded and then galloped off toward Minas Tirith once again.

Andúin struggled to hang on as Jnían galloped over the grass. She hung on to Jnían while Hwesta sat in front of her. Andúin was not used to riding bareback or double—triple, especially at this speed. Her head still hurt, and the cut on her cheek stung. But what hurt the most was her right leg, which he now had gripped against Amáteria.

"Jnían," she said, "Can we stop for a second? Or at least slow down?" Jnían nodded, and reined Amáteria in to Andúin's relief. As soon as she slowed, Andúin slid off, landing hard on the ground.

"Andúin!" Jnían yelled, leaping down to her side. She rolled Andúin onto her back. The other girl groaned. "Are you alright?"

"I don't think I've stopped for two days," Andúin gasped. "Lhach didn't stop, and now you didn't. And my leg—"she moaned again. "I landed on my scabbard, and had no chance to check it out." She sat up slowly, reaching down to her thigh. "I think it's just bruised," she said, wincing as she touched it. "But I can't hang on any longer."

Jnían smiled at her. "You've been through a lot. Why don't we rest here tonight," she rose, and then turned back to Andúin. "Think, your armor might have protected you leg from anything anymore serious."

"Well," Andúin sighed, "I guess its doing its job." They laughed together. The sun was low in the sky, and Jnían gathered kindling for a fire.

Hwesta approached Andúin, his arms full of a plant. "Here," he said to her, handing her a leaf. "The content will ease the pain in your leg." Andúin accepted it gratefully, opening the leaf, revealing a thick, sticky paste of a cream color. "Eat it," Hwesta coaxed. She dipped her fingers into it gingerly, and then slowly brought it to her mouth. It was sticky and flavorless, but she swallowed it. She repeated the slow process until it had finally disappeared.

She leaned her head back onto her saddlebag. She could feel the heat of the fire against her side, and her leg felt numb. She closed her eyes and feel into a deep, much needed sleep.

She awoke at sunrise feeling very rested. Her leg felt much better. "Andúin," Jnían said when she noticed she was awake. "I wrapped your leg while you were asleep to help it heal. Would you like something to eat?" Andúin was very grateful for Jnían's thoughtfulness, and gladly accepted the food.

After a light breakfast, they resumed their riding. With each passing day Andúin's leg felt better, but the lost precious time. They couldn't go at a rapid speed, and Amáteria tired quickly from the additional weight.

"How long do you think the delegates will remain distracted?" Andúin asked Jnían one evening as they set up their simple camp.

"I don't know," she replied. "But even if they find the third piece before us, they'll still need the original piece. And even with it, the staff will fail with a faulty mid segment."

Andúin was comforted by Jnían's wisdom. The next morning, they finally again reached Minas Tirith. "I think I should go in alone," Andúin said, dismounting. She pulled on her helmet and strode towards the city.


	8. Return to Minas Tirith

Jnían quietly watched Andúin disappear into the city. She stood at a halt in the middle of the field outside the city. Hwesta began to sing a tune that livened the air. They dismounted and let Amáteria graze for a bit. Hwesta started to pick herbs and plants for his medicines, and put them in his little satchel.

"Halt, right there," a voice suddenly commanded. Jnían startled, turning around. She saw three soldiers galloping towards them.

"Come, Hwesta," Jnían said, her voice remaining calm as she motioned back towards Amáteria.

"Yes, Mi'Lady," he answered, following her. She picked him up and climbed onto Amáteria. They began to ride faster and faster towards Osgiliath. They didn't get very far, though, when Jnían was confronted by the people of the garrison. She quickly pulled her dark hood up to cover her features from the people.

"Look, there be another one!" one of the townspeople yelled, motioning towards her. "Get him!" The soldiers behind Jnían were closing off their only hope of escape, and the mob was advancing from the front. She looked past the crowd, observing a fog bank beginning to form over the river behind them. Jnían veered off to the left and pushed Amáteria faster still towards the fog. The soldiers were close on her tail, but the mob ran only on foot, and eventually stopped following her. Jnían circled around and soon Minas Tirith was again before her. Hwesta suddenly sprinkled a fine dust over himself, her, and Amáteria. Jnían was puzzled, then heard the cease of the soldiers' horses' footsteps. She brought Amáteria to a halt, and then turned to look behind her. The soldiers stared directly at her, but with blank looks across their faces, their horses halted.

"Hwesta, what did you do?" Jnían inquired of the small creature.

"Just a bit of magic, Mi'Lady," he replied innocently. "They can't see us, you see."

"Come then, we should wait near the gate for Andúin," Jnían said, again feeling honored by the creature's presence.

Andúin walked up the path on foot. She had a lot of time to think of how she could get Alata from the royal stables and escape the city avoiding notice. She decided her best chance was to go around the courtyard as she had before by way of the mountain itself.

She continued about the city, happy for once to not have anyone watching her as they normally did. She finally made it to the courtyard gates. She could feel a dull pain now beginning to throb in her injured leg from walking the seven levels, but ground her teeth against the pain, praying it would not complicate her escape any.

She strode over to the edge of the cliff. She could only see two guards standing watch at the gate, and both were deep in a conversation, unnoticing of her presence. She put her legs delicately over the edge, and then carefully lowered the rest of her body. She tried to find the ledge for her hands as she had last time, but it seemed to have broken away.

Andúin was forced to trust her balance and walk along the small ledge, leaning her weight against the cliff side without a handhold. She still desperately ran her hands along the rough edge of the rock face, though, looking for something. She slowly moved along, trying to keep her balance. Soon, she was right beneath the heavy gate. A sudden gust of cold wind whipped up the side of the wall, and she started, loosing her balance. She began to fall backwards, and everything felt to be moving in slow motion, but she threw all of her weight forward, back into the hard rock. She slammed off of the wall, and the pain in her leg tripled as she let out a small yelp.

It was too much to handle, having the rock and her sword pressing into her leg. But she couldn't bring herself to move. The wind whipped against her again, only harder. A storm was coming. She looked up at the gray sky just as it lit up with lightening, and a deafening crack of thunder. She jumped, this time not being able to stop the fall that resulted. She slipped down the rock face, her gloved fingers barely grabbing the spot her feet had been a mere second ago. She hung there, feeling helpless, her feet dangling a least a hundred feet above the level of the city below her.

The situation did not seem to be improving itself, either. Instead of standing on the thin ledge, she hung from it, and her wonderful sword was now becoming quite a burden, its heavy weight pulling her down. She tried to edge along, feeling with her feet for another place to stand. But her hands finally came across a wide ledge, and she pulled herself up onto this instead, leaning again on the rock, her breath coming in short gasps.

She moved the remainder of the way carefully along the ledge, finally coming to the end. She pulled herself back up from the wall and into the courtyard. It had never looked to friendly. She walked quietly through the courtyard, hoping against all hopes that no one would look from the castle and question her. The only living thing she saw, though, were the four guards standing sentinel beside the blossoming white tree, their faces as emotionless as ever. She knew they would say nothing, considering she was not attacking the tree, and that was the only thing that ever made them react. She chanced a quick look back over her shoulder and across Pelennor. Jnían was no where in sight, but she could barely make out what she expected to be Captain Thalion and his men. She hoped it had nothing to do with Jnían.

She walked over to the stables, quietly opening the large doors. But directly on the other side was Ereb, the small stable boy. He jumped up from where he appeared to be dozing some hey, looking at her with large brown eyes. "What are you doing here?" he asked her, his voice cracking slightly.

"Don't be frightened, stable boy," she said in her deeper voice. "I have come for the Lady Andúin's stallion. It is needed."

"I can't just give you Alata," Ereb said, his voice more defiant. "Lady Andúin has to give me permission herself."

If only he knew, Andúin sighed to herself. "She won't be back for quite some time, I'm afraid, son, and this is an emergency," Andúin said to the young man. "We need the horse." She hated that it had to come to this, but she had already wasted enough time. She drew Andúril, a display of authority. Ereb fell back against a wall of the stable, unarmed. Andúin walked up to Alata's stall, keeping an eye on the boy. Alata instantly recognized her, and began to enthusiastically neigh. She grabbed her nearby saddle, laying her sword down near her feet, though Ereb made no attempt to move. She quickly fixed Alata for the journey, and then mounted him.

"Sorry for this, Ereb," she said as she stopped near the boy, using her normal voice and giving a small smile. "But thank you." She galloped from the stable, leaving Ereb puzzled and unknowing. She didn't slow down as she flew through the courtyard, wielding her sword in her right hand as she approached the gate. She sliced through the large bar holding it shut, and then rushed through the gate, leaving the guards shocked as she disappeared into the city.

Jnían jumped when Andúin burst through the gate. But Hwesta's spell was still working, and Andúin continued to ride right past them.

"Andúin stop!" Jnían shouted as she passed. Andúin immediately stopped, drawing her sword out of instinct.

"Jnían?" Andúin asked in a confused voice. "Where are you?"

"Over here," Jnían said, giggling a bit. She couldn't help herself. "Hwesta—"

But he already knew what she was going to say. "Of course, Mi'Lady," he said, chuckling a bit himself. Soon, Hwesta, Jnían, and Amáteria were once again visible. The girls brought their horses beside each other and they began to leave Minas Tirith behind them. Andúin was definitely in a hurry.

"What took you?" Jnían asked Andúin, still laughing a bit.

"Well," Andúin began to laugh as well with her friend, "Let's just say I had a slight fall back."

Nightfall found Andúin and Jnían talking around their campfire. Hwesta again picked herbs, singing yet another tune. Andúin lifted a piece of bread into her mouth, grateful for the food.

They were all beginning to relax for a night's rest when a familiar voice filled the campsite. "Young ladies," a sickeningly sweet voice sounded. Jnían and Andúin both startled at the sound. They spun around towards the voice and stared into the familiar cold face of Lhach. A man came into view from opposite them, carrying a struggling Hwesta under his right arm. Jnían quickly unsheathed Ranafëa, standing, Andúin falling suite. But there were more men in the darkness around them, and one rushed forward, grabbing Andúin from behind. She struggled with the man for a moment, and then gave him a quick jab in the gut with her left elbow. She wheeled to face him, sword held in a knight's stance above her head. Their swords struck one another, a loud crack echoing in the night's silence. The second time they struck, Andúin collapsed to the ground, clutching her leg. Her enemy gave a satisfied sneer, raising his sword above her. As it came down, Jnían sprinted forward with lightening fast reflexes belonging only to those of her kind, catching the man's blade on her own.

Jnían began to swing rapidly with Ranafëa at the now group of men coming from the shielding darkness into the circle of light cast by their fire. She spun, her sword now brought against Lhach's. He was easily matching her blow for blow, and Jnían was becoming more and more frustrated. Andúin lay near her on the ground, her fallen sword at her side. One of the other men grabbed it, laughing. She clutched her leg, and with gritting teeth stood back up, ignoring the pain.

The man looked at her, wielding Andúril in his left hand and his own blade in his right. But she was determined not to let this bandit have Andúril at all. She lunged at him, swinging her fists rhythmically to the sound of Jnían and Lhach's clashing blades. She finally caught the side of the man's face when an opening presented itself. The surprise blow sent the man backwards, staggering on his feet. He came back at her almost instantly, furious, wielding both swords in rage. Andúin nimbly dodged the blades, which he was becoming reckless with in his current state, biding her time for another opening. She didn't have to wait long, and soon she slammed him with a spinning back hook kick, upper cutting into his throat. Taking advantage of her airborne moment, she did a simple front kick with her other leg, landing her boot squarely in the man's chest. He fell backwards, stunned and surprised. He landed hard on the ground, releasing both swords. She walked over calmly and retrieved her own sword from the ground, then swung it around her head, and bringing it down sharply into the man's chest.

Meanwhile, Jnían had managed to elude Lhach and fight several of the other opponents surrounding her. Her fighting style seemed almost a dance, fast, graceful, and smooth, the common style of her people. It was highly effective, and opponent after opponent fell to the ground at her feet.

The two were able to slay a quarter of their attackers, and the others soon retreated, disappearing into the night. Lhach was among them. Andúin limped over to Jnían, her breathing heavy. "Why do you think they came back?" she inquired between breaths.

"They probably never left Gondor," Jnían replied. "They still need the second clue, after all. Andúin, are you alright?" she asked suddenly as Andúin reached down, clutching her leg as a look of agony tore across her face.

"I believe I overused it," she said through clenched teeth, but managed a small smile. "Oh bother, it is becoming very irking. I can no longer let it handicap me or the mission." She stood up straight, sheathing her sword. "We need to work on the clue, after all."

"Hwesta said he would help translate it," Jnían said, turning and looking from side to side. "Wait, where is Hwesta?"

"Hwesta!" Jnían began calling.

"Here, Mi'Lady," a small voice mumbled. Hwesta appeared, applying pressure to his small left arm. Blood trickled from under his hand.

"Come here," Jnían requested gently. She pulled some herbs from her own pouch. "You as well, Andúin," she said, motioning to her friend. Both moved forward and sat before the Elf. Jnían tore pieces of cloth from along the bottom of her dress.

"Hold still, Hwesta," Jnían commanded. He groaned as Jnían cleaned the wound and applied a healing salve made from her herbs. She then gently wrapped his arm in a strip of cloth.

"Thank you kindly," Hwesta managed, giving her a weak smile.

"Andúin, you must tell me where it hurts," Jnían said calmly to the other girl, exposing her leg. She ran her hand over Andúin's thigh, feeling for any tender spots.

Andúin's leg suddenly jerked from the pressure. "There," she muttered as Jnían touched the skin again with the same result.

"Close your eyes, Andúin," Jnían said. She placed a hand on Andúin's knee and another on her ankle, and then yanked hard. A loud crack came, and Andúin cried out in pain. "You'll have to go easy on it tomorrow, but it should be alright," Jnían stated, a little proudly. "You've torn some muscles behind your knee and you've dislocated the joint, though the latter I just fixed." She pulled out a small plant, placing it in Andúin's hand. "Eat this, it will ease the pain."

"You certainly do come in handy," Andúin managed a weak laugh.

"We should sleep, we have a long day ahead of us," Hwesta suggested. "Goodnight, misses."

The three of them awoke at the break of dawn with Aátrius's cry ringing in the air. "How is your leg, Andúin?" Jnían asked her as Andúin rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

"Wonderful, thanks to you," Andúin pulled Jnían into an embrace.

"Without any further a due," Hwesta started, "The next clue." He took the piece of parchment from Jnían's hand, peering over it for a second. "Um, Mi'lady, you wouldn't happen to have the translation guide to this?" he asked her sheepishly. Jnían handed it to him, and being a Master of Languages, he quickly had it translated. With perfect posture, he climbed upon a large stone and began to read the clue aloud.


	9. The Third Clue

"This one does not give a riddle," he said. "Instead it gives directions. It reads, 'Start on the side of the Golden City which is last to feel the morning sun's rays. Ride towards the Mountains of Shadow, steadily for six days without pause. When you reach the plains, turn north to the borders of the stone valley. Follow the banks of the Great River to the third bend. Cross the river to its opposite shore, and continue along the eastern shore. Ride for many days until you reach the ford at the crossing of the dirt path on which Elves have trodden. Turn westward on the road into the forest. After riding for two more days, turn north into the forest itself. Travel to the rock formation and speak the word…" Hwesta stopped, looking up at the girls. "The remainder is gone, I'm afraid."

Jnían turned to Andúin. "I hope it is enough, he said hopefully.

Andúin smiled with false faith, and then pulled out a hand drawn map. "I don't know where to even start," she admitted.

"Well," Jnían said, "It said the starting point is 'The Golden City.'" She thought for a moment. "Well, during the second War of the Ring, the city of Edoras in Rohan was still considered the Golden City. I think it lost the title in the raids in Rohan half a century ago."

"I don't know of anything else ever called that before," Andúin said to her. "I suppose Edoras will have to be it, then." She traced the path with her hand along the map. "I think this will take us into the Rhovanian."

Jnían looked up at her. "I've never been there before."

"Until this trip, I'd never been out of Gondor," Andúin admitted. "But I've heard stories."

"As have I," Jnían said. "But it's where we must go." They packed their bags and remounted their horses. "Let us go."

They rode hard several days until they reached Rohan. Andúin was relieved to be back on Alata, and with her leg feeling better, they were making excellent time. "Edoras is only four days away," Andúin said one morning as they put out the campfire.

"We don't have time enough," Jnían replied. "We need to cut that time. We shall take shorter breaks at night. Ride late, start early."

Later that same day, they reached the edges of Fanghorn, halting near where they had found Hwesta in what felt like such a long time ago. "Hwesta," Jnían started cautiously, "this is where we first saw you, or rather you found us. The rest of our journey will be hard, long, and full of peril. I understand if you wish to rejoin your people. I know you have a future." Jnían brushed a tear from her eye, and both girls awaited his solemn answer.

But it came not. "I know I joined this journey to become a member of our Council," Hwesta began, "But now that seems of little importance to me. What is a mere council, if the whole world is to fall? Did that council really help? No. A position is life is so small, so insignificant in the rest of the world. You are just one small person in thousands. There is so much more I can do here, with you two, and then I could ever do on a council. The matters they solve are small, and this is a matter of such a large importance. Who will remember me, saying yes or no to decide a mere small crisis? No one. Yet, if this task is successful, which I pray it does, I will be remembered always in tales, and my short time here will not be wasted. If I am to die tomorrow, I want to be doing something good for the whole world, and my short existence not to have been in vain. Life is too short to spend sitting down. I shall stay with you until the end."

"You have our eternal thanks," Andúin exclaimed.

"We should go," Jnían started, "We're already behind schedule." Jnían turned Amáteria and Andúin followed suite.

They began their new task with confidence, and headed towards Edoras. They rode fast all day without breaking. It was almost sunset when they reached their destination.

"It said where the sun touches last," Andúin thought aloud.

"We need to go to the west side of the city," Jnían chimed in.

"Because the sun rises in the east," Hwesta finished.

They rode swiftly to the west side of the city, and then halted. "What is next, Hwesta?" Andúin asked.

"We ride towards the mountains of shadow," he answered. Andúin pulled out the map once again, and seconds later they were heading west.

With the mountains in view the sped up, encouraged by knowing they were getting closer. Before they reached the vast plains, they turned right, heading north. The directions were remarkably accurate. It had taken exactly six days to reach the North Marshes. After that, about a day passed when they reached the Great River Andúin.

"I agree, your parents chose correctly in naming you after this extraordinary part of the earth," Jnían said, staring intently at the river.

"It's funny, I was named after it yet I haven't seen it until now. Ever since my mother died my father has been against just about anything having to do with me leaving Minas Tirith. 'You have everything you need right were you are' he'd say when I spoke of wanting to go on epic adventures like in the stories he would tell me." Andúin went silent, concentrating on her thoughts.

"We should stop for a bit and rest while the horses drink," Jnían suggested, dismounting.

Andúin, not answering, dismounted as well still looking at the river. Hwesta hopped off Amáteria, and ran to the water. He began to slide across the water. Any average person might have thought this odd, but Andúin and Jnían knew him too well for it to be anything but normal. He was at about the center when two arms emerged from beneath the surface and closed around Hwesta. What started as two arms turned into a man, and soon five. The one holding Hwesta pulled a dagger to his throat, and walked out of the water. Jnían slipped the map and directions into her left boot, unnoticed. Seconds later they were tied up, submitting because of Hwesta's compromising position.

"So where are you young ladies headed?" one of the men asked in a gruff voice.

"We go wherever the wind takes us," Andúin spat.


	10. An Unlikely Rescuer

NOTE TO READER: Thank you again to our reveiwer, if only you could see the smile on the face of my other author who doesn't get to see the reveiws much, because this is my account. But now, the plot thickens...my lovely counterpart has allowed me to create a MALE character xD Thanx again for reading, please reveiw.

Andúin stirred slightly. She made to rise, but she again blacked out. When she awoke again, she carefully opened her eyes only, feeling nothing more then a bit of dizziness this time. She turned her head slightly, noticing they were still on the river's banks, but now a camp had been set up and night had fallen.

She waited for all the queasy feelings to pass before again struggling to move, instantly feeling something rough press into what were already raw wounds on her wrists. She was bound with an old rope, but as she struggled to free the aged twining, it held taunt, only causing her to wince at the feelings in her wrists.

For a long amount of time, Andúin slipped in and out of consciousness, in and out of pain. At long last, she felt strong hands connected to muscular arms lighting her carefully to her feet. "Can you support yourself?" she heard a male voice urgently whisper. In response, Andúin's shaking legs gave way and she would have hit the ground had the mysterious arms not caught her fall.

"Lean against me," the voice gruffly ordered. "You need to get out of here." Andúin tired to peer at the face of her rescuer, but her vision was dark and blurred, and trying to focus only threatened to send her into the unconscious again. She could do little to help the man as he helped her walk away from the camp and into the darkness.

Once the man thought they were a safe distance away, he helped Andúin sit on the ground, her back leaning against a tree. She looked up with fairly clear vision for the first time at the man. He was tall, with shaggy black curls, his light gray eyes contrasting in color. He was clad in dark earthen tones, a quiver and bow strapped to his back.

As Andúin studied him, she remembered Jnían. She tried to rise, but the man stopped her. "My friend—" she tired to protest, but he silenced her with his hand before moving back the way they had just come, leaving her to watch his retreating figure.

He pushed through the trees, looking for this girl's friend. He didn't know who these people were, or why they were holding others captive, but he couldn't just continue on his way when he saw the girl's crumpled and bound form on the outskirts of the camp. He had thought it to be a young boy until he was closer to see her form.

He was deep in his thoughts when he entered a small clearing near the camp, and he saw movement. He whipped out his bow and an arrow, the tip at the figure's throat, but he felt their own blade pressing threateningly into his abdomen.

He peered closer, and realized the figure was a girl; an Elvin girl. "Who are you?" he heard her voice softly, yet coldly, demand. "Wait…you're of the Dunedain." He expected her to lower her sword upon realizing he wasn't one of her captors, but he instead felt it pushed closer against him boldly.

"That is true," he said carefully, lowering his own bow in an effort to calm her, but it did nothing. "I am Faroth. I believe I have just saved your friend, a girl of Gondor by the look of her armor." The Elf still wasn't backing down, so he finally just requested her to lower her sword.

"I don't trust Rangers," the girl said coldly; when Faroth suddenly felt a light hand on his arm, and saw a small hand in an oversized gauntlet push the sword from him.

"It's alright, Jnían," he heard the other girl say. "He was just looking for you. How did you manage to escape on your own?"

"The guards aren't exactly on their toes in the middle of the night," Jnían said sarcastically. "They didn't discover the dagger in my boot." Jnían lowered Ranafëa from Faroth's middle. "Hwesta!" she then whispered loudly. Instantly Hwesta appeared seated on Amáteria, holding the reins of Alata as well. Jnían tossed Andúril over to Andúin who seemed very thankful. Jnían could tell Andúin's equilibrium was uneven. "Eat this," Jnían said. "It will calm your stomach." Jnían removed more of the same plant out of her satchel. "So Faroth, what are you doing so far from where you should be?" Jnían asked him doubtfully.

"Well, it's complicated," he began.

"You do not have to speak of it now," Andúin interrupted. "You have our thanks, all the same."

"Will you be joining us?" Hwesta questioned bluntly.

"I—I don't want to be a bother, but if you wouldn't mind, I can't really go back to where I came from," he stopped.

"Of course you can join us. Jnían?" Andúin offered.

"Very well, but you must keep up with us. We have a schedule to keep," Jnían ordered.

"That," he said, "I can do."

"A storm is coming," Hwesta prophesized.

"We should get started, we still have a long way to go yet," Andúin pointed out.

"Yes," Jnían agreed, and they were on their way again.

With determination, Andúin took the lead, and Jnían pulled at the back. With Hwesta on Alata with Andúin, Jnían had some quiet time to herself. Startling her from her thoughts, Faroth broke the silence.

"Is something troubling you?" he asked seriously.

"Several are, but not that can be helped," she replied solemnly.

"Maybe, but discussing them can always take weight off," he tried.

"Saving the world?" Jnían offered with a laugh. "Well, that's not really it," she then admitted. "But I deeply miss my dear friend."

"That's completely understandable," he assured her, "but you will see her again."

"That's just it," Jnían sighed. "She's…dead." Silence followed dimly. Faroth could see her eyes glisten in the moonlight. She wiped her small tears away and smiled. "We should cross the river," she said abruptly.

All three horses crossed the Great River with haste. Jnían whistled for Aátrius, and continued across.

"So tell me," Jnían began, turning back to Faroth "Why are you here?"

"It's a long story," he replied, pushing the subject aside.

"Well, we have a long ride before us. Just as you said, talking helps," Jnían pushed.

"Very well," he complied, trapped by his own words.


	11. Faroth's Story

NOTE TO READER-I know, I pull a _Gladiator _move here...but thats my favorite movie of all time, and I couldn't go without it.

Faroth buried his free hand deep in his mount's thick black mane before beginning to tell the long tale, his mouth censoring some of the things his memory was recalling, for he recalled them very clearly, as if it had been days instead of years he had been away from his home. But he decided that these two women really didn't need to know about this life before he became a Ranger yet, and he doubted either ever would, so he just started when he was already of the Dunedain.

* * *

"Faroth!" he could hear his name being called on the wind, the voice all too familiar. Faroth grinned to himself, turning his horse back in the direction of the voice. He rode, still following the sound of his name, until he finally saw the other figure. 

"Malachai," he said in recognition, looking at his friend. Malachai's red hair was shorter then most cared to keep it, and only a thin line of hair across his upper lip covered the bronzed skin of his face. "Lost again, brother?" he asked the younger man. Malachai was only a few years his junior, and he had only been a Ranger for close to a year. Faroth had taken on the challenge of watching the younger man and training him in the field, but he know looked at Malachai as more of a friend or brother then a student.

Malachai's skin flushed slightly, and he ashamedly nodded his head. "I thought I would actually be able to track you this time…" he said softly. "I'm a real burden, aren't I, Faroth?"

"You're not a burden," Faroth replied to him, clapping an encouraging hand on the younger man's shoulder. "You will get this, I promise you that. Shall we try again?"

Malachai gave a weak smile before nodding his head. "This time," Faroth told him as he turned to leave, "do whatever it takes to find me, because I'm not coming to you again like this time."

"Yes sir," Malachai yelled at Faroth's retreating horse.

Faroth weaved his horse through the trees carefully, jumping the stream, trying to make himself difficult to track, but he knew Malachai could follow his trail if only he would concentrate for once. He was a dreamer, but more then that, a pessimist, and the two combined traits proved difficult. But he definitely had the talent, Faroth knew that, if only Malachai could see it.

Faroth thought he could again hear his name, but it was very distant. He keened his head in the direction of the sound, and could tell Malachai was saying other things as well, but Faroth couldn't distinguish them. This time, though, he wasn't going back.

After a short bit of time, the cries died away. _Must have realized I wasn't letting him give up_, Faroth grinned to himself. But his ears soon picked up a different sound; different voices. He cautiously dismounted, walking silently back the direction he came from. He stopped right on the outskirts of a small clearing, carefully peering in. He saw Malachai sitting on his horse beneath a large tree, but to his horror, he saw an arrow protruding from the other man's thigh.

"Malachai!" Faroth cried, coming into the clearing. Malachai's eyes opened, widening when he saw Faroth.

"No!" Malachai yelled, "It's a tr—" His horse suddenly sprang forward, leaving Malachai's body swinging from the tree. He had had a noose around his neck the entire time. As Faroth rushed forward, gripping his boots in some attempt to save him, Malachai barely muttered, "I'm sorry…I failed you," before dying.

Before Faroth could begin to mourn, an arrow barely missed his left ear. Men clad in black robes sprang from the trees all around him. "Bandits," Faroth muttered, pulling out his bow.

He quickly shot one of their archers, his arrow sinking deeply into the other man's throat. But for of what Faroth believed to be sever in all were soon upon him. He had no time to reach for his only blade which resided strapped near his ankle, so he blocked their close ranged attacks with his bow, using his body more as a weapon then arrows as he kicked men backwards.

Faroth knew the odds of him surviving were slim, especially since his mind preferred to think of Malachai, so he whistled for his horse as he threw his bow around a bandit's neck and yanked back, hearing a sickening crunch. His horse burst into the clearing, and he quickly pulled himself onto the animal's back, feeling a knife sink into the back of his leg. He kicked backwards with his boot, hearing it find its target, before burying his heels in his horse and galloping from the clearing.

* * *

"That is enough for now," Faroth told Jnían's eager eyes. "I shall continue the tale another time, but for now the memory is too painful." 

"Of course," Jnían replied compassionately. Jnían had a look of pure concentration, which was no where near abnormal for her.

"This looks good for camp," Andúin exclaimed, coming to a halt.

"We should be coming upon the dirt path soon," Hwesta concluded while surveying the map. "In the next day or two, I would say," he guessed.

"A storm is coming," Jnían announced, breaking her silence. "We should make haste."

The four of them dismounted, and then headed toward the small sheltered clove. Faroth immediately had a fire blazing and was seated beside it. With only the sound of the fire cracking they ate together in silence…

Jnían's eyes snapped open. The rain was slamming loudly outside against the rock. They steady hum of breathing was shattered by small groans. Now fully awake, Jnían tiptoed against the damp wall looking for the source of the sound. She soon discovered it was Faroth. He was seemingly having a nightmare. She reached down to stroke his face to awaken him, but he didn't seem to respond, so she gripped his shoulder preparing to shake him. In an instant Faroth's hand shot out, dagger ready, headed straight for her heart. Fast enough only to block the blow from hitting anything too vital, the dagger plunged into Jnían's left shoulder. She cried out in pain, which awoke Faroth entirely, Andúin, and Hwesta. There was a look of horror and anguish spread across Faroth's face as he realized what he had done.

Andúin and Hwesta were still groggy with sleep, so Faroth wrapped his arm around Jnían, bracing her gently as he carefully lowered her to the ground. He swiftly removed the small knife and applied pressure to the now bleeding wound.

"Get my satchel," Jnían commanded Hwesta.

"Of course, Mi'Lady," he replied, scurrying about for the leather bag. Jnían then had Andúin rub healing herbs into her shoulder. Easing herself up against the wall, everyone settled down.

Minutes later Jnían saw the bulky shadow of Faroth passing by. She struggled, but then easily made it to her feet. Slowly she stepped out in the rain. She saw him sitting hunched over on a small boulder, his head in his hands, his black hair now plastered to his head from the rain. She carefully sat down beside him. He raised his head, looking to her, and she was surprised by all the pain in his gray eyes.

"I was dreaming," he began, "about the man who killed—"

"It's alright, I know," she cut him off, "Don't worry about it. It will heal soon." She continued to reassure him, and he looked back into her eyes, when suddenly her head was yanked backwards. He saw blood running from her nose, and then the black void consumed him as well.

Jnían was being drug over the ground by her now muddy hair. The rain covered any sounds Jnían might've made in the darkness.

"Tell us!" Lhach commanded.

"Never," Jnían defied yet again.

"We shall see," he mysteriously replied, his eyes blazing. A smirk crossed his face as he pulled a pouch out of his inner breast pocket. He pulled out a small knife and cut her dress near her wound. He ripped the material, exposing her shoulder to the cold air, the opened the pouch and emptied its contents onto her shoulder. She winced, squinting her eyes shut tightly, bearing the pain with only small groans. The contents, found to be salt, were pressed into her with his thumb. She clenched her jaw as he pushed even harder, making the pain worse and worse. She had a metallic taste in her mouth from the blood of her nose, and knew she couldn't hold consciousness much longer. Her mind screamed for Andúin.

Andúin shot straight up inside the cave.

"Jnían," she whispered. There was no answer. She let her eyes become adjusted to the darkness, peering around the cave. She could see Hwesta sleeping sounding in the back corner of the alcove, but neither Jnían nor Faroth were anywhere to be seen.

Andúin walked out into the cool night air, the feeling of rain still lingering. Amáteria and Faroth's black stallion still stood near Alata. Andúin felt a more panicked feeling in her chest. She suddenly heard a low moan from nearby, and she swiftly drew Andúril, walking towards the sound. She saw a figure struggling to stand, one hand on the back of his head, the other extended for balance. As Andúin drew closer, she recognized him. "Faroth!" she called, sheathing her sword and rushing to his side, her boots loudly sloshing through the mud.

"Faroth, where is Jnían?" she demanded, helping him steady himself.

"I see where your loyalties lie," he grumbled.

"I'm sorry," Andúin said quickly. "I'm just…upset, it all. Are you alright then, Faroth?"

"Just my head," he replied wearily. "I don't rightly know what happened…where is Jnían?"

"Faroth, I just asked you that," Andúin said, her voice rising in fear.

"Oh, I suppose you did…" he said, almost falling again. Andúin realized he must have been hit on the head. Hard. Somewhere inside her she had been hoping he had only slipped on the wet earth, doing nothing more then hitting his head on a rock, and that Jnían was only nearby gathering an herb to help him. But the evidence before her proved this to have not been an accident.

"Faroth, we must find her!" Andúin said desperately.

"Yes," he said softly, his head clearing a bit. He stooped down near the rock he could remember sitting with Jnían on. "People, men by the size of their boots, came here," he said, carefully studying the tracks, one hand still extended for balance. He followed them a little wobbly around to the front of the rock. "I fell here, and she fell beside me," he gestured toward the ground with his free hand. "She was dragged by three men, unconscious," he walked for a short distance. "They left on horses and headed south."

"Then let us go!" Andúin exclaimed, racing for her own horse with Faroth close beside her.


	12. Lhach's Cruel Torture

Unsure in which direction to head, Andúin slowed to a halt. "I think we should continue as planned," she stated reluctantly.

"What about Jnían?" Faroth questioned.

"There's nothing more we can do," Andúin somberly explained. "Our only chance is to assume we'll meet up with them again when we reach our destination."

"I suppose that'll do," Faroth agreed. "I am worried about her."

"She's stronger then you'd think," Andúin assured him. "She's very capable."

"I had that impression," he agreed. "She seemed to handle her shoulder quite well." He looked down guiltily. After a moment of thought, he looked up again. "By the way, where is your destination?"

"Have you heard of the black fog that has been causing destruction in the South?" Andúin asked him.

"I've heard some things, but being a Ranger I haven't gotten much information concerning happenings this far east," he replied.

"Jnían and I are on a quest to save the…everything. This is the second time one of us has gotten captured."

"So then, how do you plan to save the world?" he inquired thoughtfully.

* * *

Jnían leaned her head against the stake her wrists were bound to. She was utterly exhausted from the pain and no rest to recover. Ordinarily she wouldn't need sleep, but with her hurt shoulder and bruised body she desperately needed it. She couldn't seem to fall asleep being aware of her captors and because of such physical distress. Lhach had paid several visits to her during the night. Once Lhach realized Jnían would share no information, he decided to use a new tactic. 

"We'll go back north," he had stated, "They'll come for you, that's a sure thing. But until we get there you will receive no food. Yuleanía!" he shouted.

"Yes master?" a humble servant asked, entering the tent.

"Stitch her wound," he commanded. As he was exiting, he added, "and she is not to receive any food for the remainder of our journey."

"Yes, master," she quietly obeyed. Jnían sighed and drooped her head. The next few days were going to be almost unbearable.

* * *

"I see, and that brings us to the present," Faroth understood. It had been two days since the storm, and they had seen no sigh of the delegates.

"She's starting to give me trouble," Hwesta interrupted. Amáteria was getting restless and giving the small Elf trouble, and it was easy to tell.

Andúin chuckled. "I guess Tree Elves weren't built for horses." Hwesta giggled nervously, and clutched the beautiful animal's reins tighter.

* * *

Jnían's wrists were rubbed raw and bloody. Her shoulder was almost fully healed, but there was a deep ache in her stomach for any form of substance. She could feel dark circles lying beneath her eyes. She longed to escape, but her body was too weak. But finally to her timely relief waves of grogginess swept over her, and sleep took a firm hold.

* * *

"Faroth, do you truly believe Jnían is alright?"

"I know no more then yourself, Mi'Lady."

"I know…I just need to hear you say she is alright."

Faroth sighed. They had stopped for a short break in the night to get a little sleep. It had been five says since Jnían's kidnapping, and they hadn't even seen another person on their journey. He knew Jnían was strong, with her Elvin blood, but that wouldn't stop them from killing her if she didn't serve her purpose for them. And he doubted she'd told them anything. He admired that in her…

"Faroth? Please," Andúin's timid voice broke his thoughts.

"I'm sure she's fine," he said. "Maybe she's even escaped. From what you've told me the two of you have gotten out of tight situations before."

They both suddenly heard a loud screech from overhead, and soon Aátrius could be seen circling them. Andúin stood, holding out her arm, which he was soon perched upon. He again screeched, and then tugged slightly on her hair before taking flight again. He called once more and began to fly back the direction they had come.

"Come!" Andúin ordered Faroth, running on foot swiftly after Aátrius. Faroth shrugged, leaving Hwesta with the horses, and then followed after her retreating figure.

* * *

"I can't believe they've been following us all this time," Andúin murmured disgustedly. Aátrius had led them about a half day's brisk walk back where they had come, and right upon Lhach and his men's campsite.

"It makes sense though," Faroth commented, watching several men wander near the edges of the camp, talking amongst themselves. "If they capture all four of us, they know we'll say nothing, and they will get nowhere. So they just take one person, following the others…"

"…and she becomes a bargaining tool," Andúin finished solemnly. "And we played right into their hands."

"We need to get Jnían out," Faroth stated. "If they don't have her, even if they still follow, we will have no reason to give them anything.

"I have an idea," Andúin replied after thinking for a few minutes. "She's most likely being held near the middle of the camp so: infiltration."

Faroth grinned at her. "Brilliant," he said. "Let me handle this." They waited until only one man was near their hiding place before Faroth sent a well aimed arrow into the man's heart. He ran forward, quickly shrugging on the man's outer wear over his own Dunedain garb, pulling the hood up. He just hoped not to be questioned.

Faroth made his way through the camp as casually as he could. Most of the men were already in their tents, and Faroth was only forced to deal with one, who was satisfied with a quick greeting before continuing on.

Finally he reached what he had been searching for. A small tent stood near the middle of the camp, a single guard standing before the entrance. Faroth threw his wrist forward in a snapping motion, and a pocketknife fell from his gauntlet. He slipped it into his right hand, easily concealing the blade.

He casually approached the man, nodding in brisk greeting. "Do you have night guard of the captive then?" Faroth questioned the man.

"Sadly," the man replied, stifling a yawn. "The entire night."

"How would you like me to relieve you of that duty?" Faroth asked, moving to within inches of the other man. Before he could scream for help, Faroth had quickly ended his life with the small knife buried in his neck. Faroth pulled his body into the tent, and then turned to face the center.

Tied to the middle stake was Jnían's weak body. She raised her head slowly up to look at him, her eyes dark. "I will tell you nothing," she growled, then spit at the earth by his boots.

Faroth said nothing, but quickly removed his hood, moving towards her.

"Faroth!" Jnían exclaimed.

Groaning, she tried to sit up.

"Don't move," he warned her. He quickly snapped the ropes around her wrists, and then put one arm around her back, and the other under her knees. He easily lifted her and headed for the opening in the tent. Once outside Faroth was headed back toward Andúin. Jnían's groans aroused a little opposition from a guard, but he was quickly silenced.

Once again hidden, Faroth lowered her limp body to the ground slowly. Andúin opened her flask of water and held up Jnían's head. First she wet her lips, and then Jnían began to drink. Although her captors had given her water, it wasn't very plentiful. Soon Jnían was able to sit up. Hwesta had treated Jnían's wrist, and other small wounds. Andúin handed her a piece of bread, and within a minute it had disappeared.

They set up camp, and all four to them were eager for sleep. Faroth noticed Jnían's eyes. They were a dreary gray color with no lively gleam. When he was sure everyone was sleeping soundly, he shut his own eyes.


	13. Fígyl and the Cavern

The next morning when Andúin awoke, Jnían was already up and about. It seemed that a good night's sleep was all she needed to energize. Her hair was still muddy and her dress still tattered, but the sparkle was back in her eyes again. She was trotting around the camp upon Amáteria.

"Let's get going!" Jnían suggested with a smile. Andúin jumped up and ran over to her.

"I'm so glad you're alight," Andúin smiled, lifting herself up to sit right beside Jnían.

"Thanks to you two," she said, giving her a tight hug.

"You were very brave," Andúin encouraged.

"Let's go," she repeated, helping Hwesta up, while Andúin was mounting Alata.

By mid-day they had made it to the dirt path, and were already heading east. After three days' ride along the path, they started north again. Even for knowing each other for a rather short segment of time, they all became good friends. Since Jnían's rescuer, they had seen no sign of the delegates. After four and a half days of steady riding, they were excited to find that they had finally come upon the great rock formation.

Carefully they dismounted and began to approach it. "We don't know the words," Hwesta said with inquiry.

"Don't need no words," a deep voice grunted from behind a small part of the frontal formation. The four of them backed up. "No need to worry," the voice continued, "just Fígyl." A small tip of a curved red helmet began to appear.

"Fígyl?" Faroth questioned.

"Yes, Fígyl," the voice answered proudly. The helmet continued to come up until the figure's full head was in view. He hopped over the stone and onto the ground. He was a gnome, one of the last of his kind, and none of the party had ever had the privilege to see one before. "No need for words," he repeated, "but needs somethin' else you do."

"What might that be?" Jnían questioned thoughtfully.

"A diamond," he replied.

_A diamond,_ Andúin thought to herself. She looked to Jnían and nodded knowingly.

"Could it be this diamond?" Jnían asked, pulling the diamond they had discovered with the first piece from her bag. Faroth and Hwesta gapped widely at the large gem in her hand.

"That'd be the one," the gnome exclaimed with a smile. "Hand it here please." Jnían carefully handed him the beautiful stone. "Yes, you may enter now," he stated reassuringly.

They quickly dismounted, Faroth and Andúin taking their horses' reins in their hand, Amáteria obediently following Jnían. Hwesta peered with his large eyes into the dark depths of the cave. He then pulled a bit of some sort to herb from a pouch on his side, whispering something. Soon his hand was glowing brightly. Hwesta smiled proudly, turning and leading the group into the depths of the cave, lighting the way.

The group went deeply into the cave, the only sound echoing was their horses' hooves. "This seems almost too easy," Faroth commented suddenly. "Well, I guess I was just expecting more resistance then this," he answered to the girls' questioning looks.

"You need not worry about that, Master Faroth," Hwesta said suddenly. "Something is ahead; I would suspect a goblin troop."

"Hwesta, put out the light," Jnían commanded, and as Hwesta snuffed the herb, they were plunged into total darkness.

"I can still see fairly well," Hwesta commented, his voice low.

"We shall continue to follow you, then," Andúin said. "My eyes don't seem to adjust to this darkness."

They walked single file following Hwesta, until the darkness was broke. They had come upon a campfire, surrounded by several goblins, all disgustingly eating fish and talking together in a scratchy language. They were all oblivious to the four figures in the darkness.

They snuck as close as they could before one of the goblins finally spotted them, letting out an ear shattering screech. Faroth quickly grabbed the creature nearest him around the neck, trying to strangle it. Andúin and Jnían soon had drawn their blades, slashing through the goblins' thin armor. The remaining goblins finally grabbed their seldom used weapons, bows and long pieces of crude steel, and began to fight back. Andúin missed a block as one of the steel weapons came down hard across her chest, a loud metallic sound echoing. The breath was knocked from her, but she quickly inhaled, bringing Andúril down hard, crushing the creature's skull.

The group finally stopped as Jnían slit the last goblin's throat cleanly, catching their breath. "Enough excitement for you, then, Faroth?" Andúin teased, when an arrow came from the shadows, followed closely by another, both landing in Faroth's thigh.

Jnían quickly ran into the shadows as Faroth fell to the ground, and Andúin soon heard the sickening sound of two dying goblins before Jnían reappeared. Hwesta was already at Faroth's side, examining the wounds. "The arrows have poison tips, methinks," he said, pulling them from Faroth's skin.

"Poison?" Andúin repeated.

"A lot of goblin captains gain access to poison arrows," Jnían explained. "Crude and usually slow working, but powerful once it is circulating. The more Faroth does, the faster and more devastating the poison is."

"Does it pain you?" Andúin asked him.

"The wounds themselves will quickly heal," Faroth replied. "But I do feel a little dizzy. I think I can walk though."

"We will help you walk until we can get out of the cave," Jnían said. "Then I can find an _athelas_ plant. Until then, we can only hope to not stumble upon more enemies."

They gathered what little they could from the goblin campsite, including some bread and dried meat, and they also gathered the remained poison tipped arrows, placing them in Faroth's quiver. Hwesta relit the herb, and Andúin and Jnían together supported Faroth as they followed the tunnel.

Andúin noticed a glimmer in the walls of the cave. "If I had to guess, I would say that is mithril, as the Elves call it," she said, running her fingers down one of the glittering veins. "I always thought it to be common in the Misty Mountains, not this far east though. But that would explain the goblins."

"It is a good sign, to find it unmined like this," Jnían said. "If dwarves would have discovered it, it would be gone, as would our piece of the staff I would guess."

Andúin laughed lightly at the disgust in Jnían's voice. Though the Fourth Age had brought about a much tighter bound between the remaining Elves and the dwarves, there was still an amount of tension that would probably never cease. She began to hum to herself, lost in her thoughts.

"What tune do you sing, Andúin?" Jnían asked her.

"Something my grandfather used to sing when I was very young. It is one of the only memories I have on him." She then sang it more clearly so Jnían could hear her:

"_The road goes ever on and on_

_Down from the road where it began_

_Now far ahead the Road has gone_

_And I must follow if I can_

_Pursuing it with eager feet,_

_Until it joins some long way_

_Where many paths and errands meet_

_And whither then? I can not say."_

Her voice faded as they entered a large cavern. Skeletons of men, orcs, dwarves, and goblins lay scattered about. Hwesta again muttered to the herb in his hand, and it took on its brightest form, revealing the entire cavern.

"We were not the first to have come here," Faroth said. "Let us hope that all those before us now lay here, and none escaped with the staff."

"They didn't," Jnían said simply, and the others followed her gaze to the center of the room. There was a large pedestal, gold in color, with large wings of mithril spreading from the top. "There on the floor," Jnían said then, pointing, and the third piece of the staff could easily be seen laying there. "Someone grabbed it, before…" she stopped, staring at the countless bodies.

"Maybe whatever happens was set up by lifting the staff," Faroth suggested, "and we don't have to do that."

"I hope you are right," Andúin said to him, slowly and carefully walking toward the staff piece. She reached down tentatively, and grasped her fingers around the cold metal. Nothing happened. The four were soon laughing, the tension quickly disappearing from the air.

Suddenly, they heard the sound of grinding rock. They instantly stopped laughing, turning and looking behind Andúin. "We must fly!" Jnían screamed, and they began to run for the cavern entrance. Before any of them reached it, they heard a crash and a low growl. The company turned to face the Final Fell Beast of Middle Earth. Over the long years, it had grown to an immense size. It stretched its large wingspan around them, blocking the entrance as its wormlike neck whipped a dangerous head around to face them.

An arrow flew past Andúin's face, landing in the creature's left eye. She turned to see Faroth, favoring one leg, but firing another goblin arrow into the creature's other eye. It screeched in pain, blinded, and withdrew its wings slightly. Faroth pushed Jnían through the small gap, following quickly himself. Hwesta suddenly run up in front of Andúin, though, instead of back through the exit, pulling something from a pouch on his waist. _"Dagnir Galad!"_ he screamed, and a brilliant white light ejected, and then the cave was in darkness.

Andúin turned, running blindly, and hit the creature's limp wing. She could still feel the blood pulsing quickly through its enlarged veins though. It was stunned. She felt her way along the wing and out into the tunnel, running as fast as she could.

She emerged from the cave, seeing Faroth and Jnían nearby a large rock. They motioned for her, and she dropped beside them. She peered around the rock as they did, and saw the delegates. They appeared to be fighting a small creature, who could be none other then Fígyl.

Suddenly Lhach emerged from their ranks. He approached the small creature that had somehow managed to kill three of his men. He flashed a disgusted look, and then pulled the twin blades from his back, quickly decapitating the gnome.

* * *

"I must go back," Jnían stated, her voice barely above a whisper.

"What? No, you wasn't the Fell Beast is still in there," Andúin warmed.

Faroth looked up from watching the delegates. "She's right, you—" he started, but she was already gone. Jnían worked her way along the damp cave wall in the darkness. She could hear the Fell Beast's heavy breathing.

"Hwesta," Jnían whispered. She made it to Amáteria, Alata, and Faroth's stallion, all three horses having been left near the goblin's camp, and now were panicking in the darkness. She calmed them, listening for Hwesta, but she heard nothing. "Hwesta," she called again, a little louder.

"Here, Mi'Lady," he groaned. She felt her way toward his voice. "My leg is hurt," he said quietly.

"Come," she commanded, pulling him up onto Amáteria with her right arm. With now warning a loud shriek came from deeper within the cave, growing louder and louder. "It's coming, we must hurry," Jnían said, mounting Amáteria behind Hwesta.

As fast as they could, they raced though the dark corridor, the other horses instinctively following Amáteria. Once they made it out, the bright sunlight momentarily blinded the group. Before they knew what was happening, they were being thrown down. Finally able to see, Jnían saw Lhach. She looked to her right, seeing Faroth and Andúin lying face down in the dirt.

"How fortunate to meet you here," Lhach commented dryly. Jnían looked at him and smiled. "What are you smiling about?" he grunted. About a minute later, with no reply, the Last Fell Beast exploded from the opening of the cave. There was thick purple liquid seeping from its damaged eyes. It flew straight toward Lhach. Flying almost twenty feet up, gravity took its toll on the man's body. Jnían took action. She jumped to her feet and ran toward her friends. Faroth was unconscious, and Andúin appeared a bit dizzy. She swiftly unsheathed Ranafëa and was headed back towards the remaining delegates. She whistled and Aátrius was off headed south. One her first opponent she pivoted her left foot, and swung her right, smashing into his bony jaw. She could see Lhach out of the corner of her eye, still breathing, but severely hurt laying on the ground. The Fell Beast had taken out most of Lhach's men in rapid sweeps, and the others were already mounted and headed back from where they came. By now Andúin was on her feet, and fighting what was left of the enemies while trying to avoid the Fell Beast.

Jnían made her way over to Faroth again. The poison was probably spreading much more quickly now. She put her hands under each of his arms and rug him over to his stallion. With Andúin's quick help, Faroth was laid on the horse with care.

"Get Hwesta," Jnían told Andúin.

"Yes, he can ride with me. You take Faroth," she agreed.

Once all three of them were mounted, they were off, away from the cave and the creature, which had began to eat its kill. Andúin and Hwesta were once again leading, while Jnían led the Faroth's horse behind Amáteria.

"We need to find an _Athelas_ plant soon" Jnían warned. "The poison is spreading quickly."

"Look," Hwesta said, pointing from the horse. "It appears there might be some there."

"Hurry!" Jnían shouted with worry on her tone. "I don't know how much longer he'll hold out. We need to stop. Hwesta, take Andúin and go ahead and find the plant, I'll stay and look after him." Once they were gone Jnían managed to lower Faroth slowly to the ground. She tore a piece of her dress and wet it. She could still hear the shrieking of the Fell Beast in the distance. She spread the cloth across Faroth's forehead, and began to hum an Elvish tune


	14. Andúin's Proving and Stolen Affections

"Is this it? Andúin asked Hwesta, holding up a bit of a plant.

"It sure is," he said with a smile. They were on Alata about to head back to Jnían when the sun was blocked above them. They looked up to see the Fell Beast's immense body as it landed before them.

"Hwesta, go back to Jnían! Take the _Athelas_ before its too late for Faroth," Andúin ordered.

"What about yourself, Mi'Lady?" Hwesta asked, unmoving.

"I'm making this up as I go!" Andúin said, drawing Andúril swiftly and shoving Hwesta back. "I'll distract the beast." Hwesta ran back towards the campsite, limping slightly, away from Andúin and the creature.

"This is for you, Father!" Andúin screamed, "I will prove myself!" She let out a battle cry, running towards the beat.

* * *

Hwesta burst into the small clearing Jnían was tending to Faroth in. "Here are the herbs, Mi'Lady," he panted, his arms pull of the plant.

"Where is Andúin?" Jnían asked him, her brow creased in worry.

"We were surprised by the creature," Hwesta started softly. "She sent be back to help you, while herself she stayed with the beast. I know not her fate."

Jnían hung her head, whispering a silent lament for the other girl, before gathering up the herb. Faroth was on the edge of consciousness as she carefully wet the leaves in her mouth and administered them to his wounds, causing his body to jolt slightly.

"There is no more we can do for him," Hwesta stated.

"There is always more you can do," Jnían replied, running her hand lightly over the side of Faroth's face, saying more and more things in Quenya. Hwesta was forced to only watch, as he did not know much of the language. Faroth's body stirred more, and his eyes slowly opened.

"Jnían?" his voice suddenly said softly.

"Faroth, do you feel any stronger?" Jnían asked him worriedly.

"Yes, thanks to you," he replied. "I'll live."

"Good," Jnían said, and before he could reply, she silenced him with a light kiss. When she pulled away, her gentle smile went stern, and she quickly commanded Hwesta to stay with Faroth while she went to help Andúin. As she raced from the clearing, Hwesta shook his head at her antics. Never would he understand the strange behavior of these females.

Jnían pushed quickly through the underbrush of the forest, following the loud sounds emitting from the Fell Beast. She discovered them in a ring of fallen trees, Andúin yelling something in Westron, lunching at the creature, barely avoiding its jaws.

Andúin didn't even know what was driving her at this point. She didn't even feel like she was in control of her own body, reacting only on pure instinct., She felt herself lunching and dodging, fighting like she never had before, screaming like a savage., Suddenly she felt iron jaws clamp down on her left arm, and as she felt pain shoot through her body, she screamed, then plunged Andúril deep into the creature's neck as her own knees buckled, and she released her grip, hitting the ground, blood showering about her.

The fell beat plummeted down toward the ground. Andúin couldn't move soon enough to dodge the large animal. Fear gripped Jnían as she saw Andúin forced to the ground by the beast. By the time Jnían had made it to Andúin, the Last Fell Beast was no more. Jnían couldn't spot her friend until Andúin cried out to her. Completely saturated in its purple blood, Andúin was barely visible.

"My arm," she managed.

"I know. What's trapped?" Jnían quickly questioned.

"My leg, I don't think it's broken though," she said, "but I can't move."

Jnían wiped blood from her friend's face with her sleeve. "Hold on, friend, I will return shortly," Jnían said, rising to her feet. With blood seeping from her arm, Andúin struggled to stay awake.

Jnían was soon back to Faroth and Hwesta. She retrieved a rope and beckoned them to follow her. Faroth was sitting up down, deeper into his own recovery. Her graceful strides were essential, for she had to hurry.

Again at Andúin's side, Jnían acted fast. She removed the gauntlet and tied the rope around her arm. Soon the bleeding ceased. Soon Faroth and Hwesta were at Jnían's side as well.

"Hwesta, stitch her arm and treat it with herbs. Then wrap it in clean cloth. Make haste!" Jnían was commanding. Andúin had lost consciousness. After Hwesta had down what he was told, Jnían decided to try and release Andúin's leg. She unsheathed Ranafëa and with a great effort plunged it past the beast's scales and into its stomach. She sliced across, spilling its intestines over Andúin. Jnían pulled more of its insides out onto the ground, not caring anymore about the stench or the sight. A foul smell emitted strongly, though. After she finished, she had removed enough weight to drag Andúin from underneath the beast.

Hours later they were again sitting by a fire, resting after the day's events. Hwesta was playing a jolly tune on his small wind instrument. As they sat with light conversation, Faroth managed a glance toward Jnían, recounting what had happened earlier. Was he imagining things, or had Jnían…he supposed not, and yet…

Andúin noticed the distant looks on her friends' faces. She shrugged, taking another bite of the dry goblins' bread. She only grimaced slightly at the taste, more worried about calming her hungry stomach at the moment. She knew she was lucky to be alive at all.

They had not seen the delegates since the fell beast had attacked Lhach. They had all scattered, and they didn't even know if Lhach still drew breath or not. Andúin figured that the almost race they had been on definitely would be slowed by this. Faroth and Andúin both needed to recover before traveling again. Andúin leached into her left vambrace, pulling out their newest piece of the staff. It had bruised her leg badly when the best fell, and Andúin was impressed that it hadn't broken. Perhaps it helped save her leg in some way—

Andúin figured she was letting her thoughts wander, and pulled them back to the present. Hwesta was curled up near the fire, his instrument beside him. Faroth had his back against a nearby tree and appeared to be sleeping. Even Jnían lay on the ground, her hands crossed over her chest, her eyes closed. Andúin couldn't help but smile; they had all miraculously survived another day.

Upon morning, Faroth tested his weak leg, only to discover he could walk without pain again. His eyes wandered to Jnían's sleeping body. She had saved his life. No one else had ever done that for him, nor did he doubt anyone would have, except Malachai. She shook his head to rid himself of the painful memories, his hair falling into his eyes. As he brushed it back, he saw Jnían stir, then rise.

Jnían automatically adjusted the loose sleeve on her dress, but as she did, the final threads snapped. Her dress only hung by one shoulder, and as she inspected the edges she knew this would not be a simple mend she could do in the wilderness they were in. She sighed, exasperated. She didn't know how she would last riding.

Faroth watched her curiously, and then slipped off his cloak, laying it gently over her shoulders. "I know it's not much," he said softly to her.

"Thank you," Jnían said, pulling the cloak tightly around her, staring at him. Just as he appeared to be ready to speak, they heard Andúin yawn.'

"The two of you are up early," Andúin stated suspiciously, her eyes traveling between the two, finally resting on Faroth's cloak and Jnían's ripped dress.

"We'd best look back in the cave for the other clue," Jnían said, shattering the silence. "Andúin, you need rest. Faroth and I will go and look." Hwesta appeared to be about to offer to come as well, but Jnían and Faroth left too quickly.

"Let them go," Andúin said to Hwesta as he stood to follow. Again, she couldn't help but smile.

"I'm not surprised," Hwesta commented comically.

"Why is that?" I'm pretty sure I have an idea, but you never can really tell," Andúin asked him curiously.

"You're right about that," Hwesta agreed. "Yesterday she showed a particular kind of affection."

"How so?" Andúin questioned with a smirk.

"She touched his lips with hers; I can't remember what you call it."

"A kiss? You saw them kiss? What—"she started, but Hwesta cut in.

"Well, they didn't really 'kiss.' He was barely conscious."

"I suspected as much," Andúin replied. "I'm being attacked while they're 'preoccupied.'"

* * *

Faroth and Jnían entered the dim cave side by side. Soon, they entered the main chamber, and this time, being not as rushed, lit the wall torches.

"We should start looking at opposite ends to cover more ground," Jnían stated.

"Yes," Faroth agreed, then faltered a bit, wording his next response in his head carefully before saying, "Jnían, yesterday…did you…" he paused, feeling awkward.

"Did I what?" Jnían questioned sincerely.

"When you were treating my leg…" he again paused.

"What are you speaking of, Faroth?" Jnían repeated.

Then she heard a whisper in her left ear. "I'll show you," Faroth barely breathed. He turned her around, and soon his lips were covering hers. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he cradled her head with his large hand.

The precious moment was not meant to last, however, for Lhach emerged from the shadows. One of his arms gripped across his chest, the other hung at his side. Jnían and Faroth immediately jumped apart. "My apologies," Lhach stated, his voice a wheeze, "I didn't mean to interrupt anything."

"Where are the rest of your men?" Faroth scorned.

Lhach looked at him seriously. "You may have won the battle, but you haven't won the war. Fools!" He turned and mounted the horse behind him with some difficulty, also hidden by the shadows, and rode past them, coughing heavily.

"Come on, let us keep looking," Jnían stated in the ensuing silence. "He will meet his soldiers again, and they'll be quick on our footsteps."

Faroth and Jnían searched high and low, and finally had some luck. "This wall is hollow," Faroth stated curiously.

"Read the inscription above," Jnían explained. Faroth said the strange words aloud, and the wall opened. "There," she pointed.

"Can you read this?" Faroth questioned with concern as he pulled the bit of dried parchment from the revealed hole.

"Not yet, but I know someone who can. Let us get back to camp." Jnían quickly mounted and Faroth did the same. Hastily they made their way to Jnían and Hwesta.


	15. Lhach Strikes Again

NOTE TO READER-Sorry this one is so short...don't really know how that happened. Look for another one later today. I can't thank my reveiwer enough, you're just the light of our world right now. :-)

Andúin had fallen into a light sleep in their absence, but awoke when she heard their returning voices. Jnían burst into their small campsite, a large smile spread across her face. "Andúin, we've found another clue," she was saying.

"And Lhach," Faroth added, appearing behind her. "He has gone to regather his men. We cannot stay here much longer."

Andúin frowned slightly at Faroth's words, but then returned to Jnían. "Well then, what is it?" she inquired.

"That is for Hwesta to figure out for us," Jnían said. "Where is he?"

"He's right—"Andúin cut off, looking around the campsite. "Oh, I fell asleep while you were gone! I don't know where he is."

"We'll look for him," Faroth said.

"I'll stay here," Jnían offered, "He might return."

"Very well, Faroth and I shall search," Andúin started to leave and Faroth followed her. "What took the two of you so long?" she inquired thoughtfully when they were a distance away.

"We weren't gone that long…were we?" he said carelessly. Andúin nodded. "It must have taken us longer then I thought looking for the clue," he smiled.

Back at the camp, Jnían caught a small glimpse of Hwesta. He was of course picking herbs out in a nearby clearing. Frequently you'd see his small head bob up and down. Jnían decided to let him be for another moment when twelve men shot out from the forest shadow. She whistled for Aátrius to retrieve Faroth and Andúin. She herself rode Amáteria as fast as she could to the clearing, but by the time she reached it, Lhach already had his possession.

"I don't know why I never thought of it before. I didn't know this little one could read the sacred language. I never would have wasted my time on you," Lhach mocked her.

By this time Faroth and Andúin had brought their own horses parallel with Jnían's. "Shall we?" Lhach commented to his men, and began to leave. Jnían started after them, but was stopped by Andúin's voice.

"Jnían, not now."

"Yes," Jnían halted, "we must try to decipher the clue on our own."

"We'll find him," Faroth reassured them. "We'll find him."

Andúin pulled the large translation book from her saddlebag. She carried it over to the small fire they had made, seating herself snuggly between Faroth and Jnían. She had take then outer layer of armor off for the first time in a while, and she felt considerably lighter and better.

She opened the book onto her lap, and then took the bit of parchment from Jnían that had the clue written in a flowing script in the ancient language upon it. Andúin tried for a while to translate it, Jnían and Faroth talking over her. Finally she slammed the book shut, frustrated, causing the other two to jump.

"What is it?" Jnían asked her.

"I'm only getting gibberish," Andúin said, her face in her hands. "This was a lot easier with Hwesta here."

"You don't think he will tell them anything, do you?" Faroth interjected.

"You don't know Hwesta as we do," Jnían said. "He will tell them nothing."

"Lhach appeared much better then before," Andúin said. "The last I personally had seen of him was a limp body on the ground amongst a battle."

"They must have a skilled healer amongst their ranks," Faroth replied. "Speaking of, how is your arm, Andúin?"

Andúin sighed heavily in response, laying her hand on her arm. "The pain is dulling," she said, "but its going to be terribly scarred, I'm afraid."

"Well, it shall be an interesting conversation piece," Faroth grinned.

Andúin returned his grin. "Somehow I don't believe the ladies of the court will enjoy this tale much."

"You don't seem much of a 'lady of the court,' if you don't mind my saying," he replied.

"I take that as a compliment, Faroth." They both laughed together.

Suddenly Jnían started to laugh as well, alone. At some point she had taken the book from Andúin and looked herself at it. "You can tell your Westron roots, Andúin," she said. "You aren't even close. You do not change this from this odd language into Westron as you first tried, nor the Sindarian you tried below. It must be Quenya, for that is the eldest of the languages."

"Then it is good we have you amongst us," Faroth said. "Quenya is spoken by the High Elves, and though I speak that of the Grey Elves, it will help me little in this."

"I will do my best," Jnían said.


	16. The Fourth Clue

"But I must be alone." She whistled, and soon Aátrius was on her arm. Curiously Faroth watched her communicate with the small animal. "I should return within the hour, if anything goes wrong, Aátrius shall let you know," she informed the group. With quick graceful movements, she was gone.

"Such a faithful friend," Faroth said, stroking Aátrius' small head.

"We should rest. Aátrius will wake us if anything happens," Andúin suggested.

"Yes, sleep," Faroth agreed, yawning for effect.

_Andúin tried to stop Lhach. She dove in front of Jnían but it was too late. His blade went straight through her middle._

"_No!" Andúin screamed…_

Her eyes snapped open and she shot up. She was drenched in sweat, and her palms were clammy. The only sound she could hear was the crickets' song, and the steady rhythm of Faroth's breathing. Andúin looked around, and everything was as it should be, except Jnían had not yet returned. She spotted Aátrius, alert, next to the fire.

"Faroth," Andúin said loudly.

Drowsy with sleep, Faroth lifted his head. "What is it?"

"Jnían," she answered quickly.

"But Aátrius is still here. She must be—"

"I'm here," Jnían stated, surprising them, as she lowered herself from a tree near the camp. Andúin ran to her and pulled her close. "Andúin, you are trembling," Jnían observed.

"I had a nightmare," Andúin managed.

"I'm fine," Jnían reassured her, "and I've had a little bit of luck with the clue."

"Truly?" Faroth questioned, "What is your progress?"

"Well, being of Elvin blood, I'm partially fluent in Quenya. I managed to translate it, but I'm sure it will take all three of us to understand it."

"What does it say?" Andúin inquired anxiously.

"I believe I have it correct," Jnían started, "It reads:

'_Travel east on the path_

_Avoid Evil's wrath_

_The eastern most sea_

_Holds the final key'_

"Faroth, you know the East exceedingly better then us."

"First we must rest," Faroth stated distractedly, "we'll need it."

They set out the following morning at a steady pace. "We need to return to Meshía and retrieve the original two pieces," Jnían stated.

"Why do we just not get this piece, and then retrieve the others?" Faroth asked.

"No," Jnían replied, "We are already pressing out luck by leaving them there now. I fear we are also running low on time for the Black Smoke itself. Rohan is out of our way to return to Gondor with the final piece. We could return with the complete staff."

"We cannot let the smoke reach Gondor," Andúin interjected.

"Rohan is not very far from here. It will not be a wasted trip."

"Then let us ride!" Faroth said gruffly, urging his horse forward. They rode hard most of the way to Rohan, stopping for only a few hours' rest each night. Finally, Meshía's small hut came into view.

"It has been so long since we were here to retrieve Andúril," Andúin said wistfully. "How I miss Minas Tirith…"

"Wait, look closer," Faroth said sharply. "The building appears to be deserted."

"It always looks that way," Jnían said, but her voice sounded unsteady. They dismounted and approached the building. She knocked on the door as she always did, but there was no reply. Faroth moved forward and sharply threw his weight against the door, throwing it open.

"Meshía?" Jnían called softly, walking through the darkness cautiously. "Meshía, are you here?" They went into the adjoining room.

Jnían froze. "Oh, no," she said softly, her hand going to her mouth. Meshía's limp body lay facedown in the center of the room, her dress in tatters and her hair bloody. She rushed to her fallen friend's body, cradling her head in her lap.

"Meshía, I am so sorry," she sobbed. "_I Melain berio le_, my friend."

Jnían rose to her feet, Meshía's small body in her arms. "I will return shortly," Jnían choked out. Faroth and Andúin watched silently as Jnían exited the small hut door.

"Stay here, Faroth, and wait for Jnían to return," Andúin commanded curtly. She soon disappeared underneath the trap door. Faroth, now alone, glanced about the room. Things had been knocked over and broken. He felt remorse for the unknowing old woman. Jnían entered so quietly, she startled him. She was no longer crying, but her cheeks were stained.

"Are you well?" Faroth asked her softly. Jnían looked at him and made no reply. "I am sorry," he added.

She smiled. "Thank you, she was a dear friend."

"Come!" Andúin suddenly shouted from below.

"What is it?" Jnían asked.

"The pieces are gone."

"Both of them?" Faroth questioned hoarsely.

"Yes, both," came her reply.

"Wait," Jnían started to think, "She may have…" she wandered into the other room. Curious, Faroth followed her.

"Jnían?" Andúin called as she returned to the surface. She then saw her against the wall in the corner. She watched the Elf sidestep three steps to her right, and then three steps forward. She stopped, and kneeled down, carefully lifting the floorboard. Jnían put her hand inside, and after some time, her hand emerged with a wrapped cloth. She unwrapped it carefully.

"The base," Andúin realized.

"Yes," Jnían agreed, "but there is only the base. Lhach must have the other piece. At least we are a step ahead."

"A step ahead?" Andúin repeated her, "Last time I looked, Lhach was a step ahead, especially with Hwesta."

"Look, Lhach knows there are four pieces, and he believes we only had two. He knows nothing of the base. He thinks we possess now only the one we found in that cave. By now he has realized that the one I gave him was a false one, and he now has the real one from here. He probably believes that is the one we found in Gondor, for he did overhear us saying that a piece was there. The one in Rivendell he never found out about, he only believed we were there because of my heritage, or to just find a clue, not a piece. Thus, he believes we have only found two, yet now only possess one, and we are after the third rather then the fourth and final piece."

"I see," Andúin was beginning to understand. "So where do we go now?"

"East," Faroth interjected.

The group replenished their waning supplies at a nearby nomadic family's campsite, who luckily for them, were willing to part with supplies for a very small price. Again they found themselves on a 'treasure hunt' for the final piece of the staff.

"Do you have a very good grasp on where we are going exactly?" Andúin asked Faroth as they crossed over Rohan. "I will admit that the lands in the West are of more common knowledge to me than the East," Faroth shrugged, "But my guess would be the Sea of Rhûn."

"That is where I suspected as well," Jnían interjected.

"The difficulty is the lands around it," Faroth continued. "There is little known of them, as most never survive to plot them. There could be anything from mountains to forests to ice. I would prefer to avoid Mordor as much as possible, though it is nothing more then a barren wasteland again, I doubt it is completely abandoned of those things foul that prosper in such dark places."

"That is probably what the clue meant by 'avoiding evil's wrath' anyway," Andúin said. "But that proves inconvenient. This passage may prove more difficult then first expected."

"Each day I worry about Hwesta," Jnían said suddenly. "He may be a hardy fellow, but what they did to me almost killed me in a matter of days, and Hwesta has been missing much longer."

"We have to keep our hopes up, they are all we have," Andúin said.

"And they will have no chance of finding out next destination without him. Hwesta doesn't even know, anyway," Faroth remarked.

"But still, perhaps we should split up," Jnían replied.

"I'm not so sure," Faroth warned. "Splitting up can cause serous problems. Well, we must go north anyway, so we might as well go together. Once we again reach the path we'll see about splitting." Jnían and Andúin nodded in agreement. So the three began their journey north.

"Andúin, could you let me see the clue again?" Jnían requested.

Andúin lowered her hand into her side satchel. "Its not here," she said, her voice empty.


	17. And So We Go Our Seperate Ways

NOTE TO READER-Coming closer and closer to the end! Hope you've been enjoying it. My apologies that this is a short chapter, but its very important.

"Hopefully it was lost in the wilderness or in Meshía's home," Faroth said. "It was not long, I'm sure we'll remember it. I would be much more worried about another finding it."

"The odds of Lhach finding a piece of parchment between the cavern and Rohan are slim to nothing," Andúin said. "If a stranger finds it, they will make nothing of it. I believe a missing clue is the least of our worries at this point."

They left soon after, leaving the old home behind them as they turned east one last time to begin their final leg of the quest. After carefully studying a map, they planned to head east as far as they could, then turn north to skirt around the Mountains of Shadow and Mordor. After that, only time would reveal their path through the unmarked land.

They rode for several days in an absent silence, Jnían mourning for Meshía, Faroth thinking of the quest, and Andúin simply missing the tales and songs that usually accompanied them courtesy of Hwesta. She found herself with less and less hope for eh little fellow with each passing day. She also thought more and more on the amount of time they were taking, and how much longer still lay before them. The Black Fog had to be close to Gondor at that point, and as they rounded the last corner of her homeland, she expressed her feelings to Jnían.

"Andúin, we can go no faster and still be reasonable," was the Elf's mellow response.

Andúin felt the strain that had been building up the past few months finally snap. "If it were Lórien we would move faster," she heard herself saying.

"You know that is not true, do not make such judgments upon my character," Jnían replied in a tone similar to scolding a child.

Andúin looked to see Faroth a distance ahead of them, and then continued. "What if it were Faroth's home?"

Jnían's usually calm face turned to a scowl. "What do you mean by that?"

"Hwesta told me about the two of you, after my battle with the Fell Beast," Andúin accused. "Did you ever think of me when you started this?"

"I cannot believe we are even arguing about this," Jnían replied curtly.

"Then you don't deny that it is true?" Andúin prodded, and upon the Elf's silence, continued in harsh tones, "I knew he was going to be a problem, and you've proved my premonitions true. I worry for Gondor, and that is exactly where I am going. I will not be second choice to him, Jnían. Find the clue yourself; I'm sure you'll be all the happier without my presence." She wiped a gloved hand across her face to hide the tears that were starting to fall, and then turned and galloped back the way they had come, back towards Minas Tirith.

Jnían looked startled at the sudden change, and then called after her retreating figure. Faroth turned to look over his shoulder, a puzzled expression crossing his face, and he brought his horse back level with Amáteria. "Where is she going?" he questioned, then noticed the few tears running down Jnían's face, and he guessed at the argument, though he didn't know the subject. He gently brushed the tears from her face, remaining silent.

"We—we must keep going, we still have far to travel," Jnían said suddenly, nudging Amáteria forward and away from Gondor.

Days passed, silent and melancholy. Jnían was deeply troubled by Andúin's departure, and could think of little else. To no avail, Faroth attempted to sooth her broken heart.

With the Mountains of Shadow and Mordor at their backs, they began to head east. Unable to bear the silence any longer, Faroth shouted, "What are we doing! We've been traveling for weeks, and now we're not even sure where exactly we're going! Andúin and Hwesta are gone—"

"Faroth," Jnían cut in, "rest your doubts, we need to keep our faith. The Sea of Rhûn is near, and so is the finish of this evil. We cannot give up, for we can't let down our people. We can't fail. We need to succeed for Hwesta and Andúin, to enforce the truth that good always triumphs over evil." She looked deep into Faroth's concerned gray eyes and smiled.

Slowly, he began to smile back. "What are we waiting for then?" he pulled his steed up on its hind legs, and then charged forward.


	18. Always Winter, Sudden Summer

NOTE TO READER-Sorry about the cliffhanger a few chapters ago innocent smile I had to have SOMETHING to keep everyone coming back. This is to make up for the other short chapter for my loyal readers. Remeber, reveiws are always appreciated. Oh, yes, and the final story is now in the hands of a teacher for final reveiwing before we present our project, so the deadline is coming up! gulp

After that, they made incredible time. With lightened hearts they flew across the unknown land. Faroth noted the gradual decrease of temperature. When they finally came upon the vast body of water there was a steady snowfall. The Sea of Rhûn was larger than they had first anticipated. It was frozen by the looks of it, and both Jnían and Faroth were apprehensive about walking on it. Jnían ruled out using the horses immediately.

"What now?" Faroth questioned expectantly.

"I suspect we should cross the Sea," Jnían guessed. They began slowly across the ice, not sure of its stability, then increased their speed with more confidence. After an hour of harsh winds and a slippery surface, the two of them had a growing frustration. The bank of the Sea could not be seen in any direction.

Faroth jerked with surprise when Jnían put her hand on his arm. Slowly she pointed ahead to an unknown object protruding from the ice. Cautiously they hurried to it. Faroth dusted the icy powder from the unusual surface.

"It's the last piece," Jnían stated with a sigh.

"Well, I would guess that we should pull it out," Faroth replied, beginning to do so.

"I don't know, Faroth," Jnían answered with reserve. "It seems far too simple. Remember what happened at the cave when the piece was unguarded? This could easily be the same."

"I'm not sure of the answer, Jnían," he replied calmly. "Perhaps they figured since the piece was so far from anyone that was protection enough. But I am sure that we are running out of time. There isn't room for doubt anymore; we have to try." With that, Faroth put both hands on around the slender metal and pulled. After a few moments of struggle, the piece was free. There was a pause of dead silence. The wind and snow had instantly ceased, and it appeared that the only sound was their heavy breathing.

"Faroth, let us leave, now," Jnían said, her voice low.

Faroth took his eyes away from the piece and rested them on Jnían. He opened his mouth to speak, and a strange noise came instead of his voice. It was seconds later when Jnían realized it wasn't from Faroth which the sound came, but from the ice. Simultaneously they looked to their feet. The quiet cracking noise soon became a piercing roar as the ice cracked and melted.

"Run!" Faroth shouted, extending his hand. With little hesitation Jnían clasped it and they began to retrace their steps. They ran at top speed, Faroth slipped a bit but Jnían keeping him on his feet with her Elven grace, but the crevices caught up with them. Left and right the ice was breaking apart. They had to jump across an opening, when Jnían's own footing slipped. She slammed into Faroth, and he slid swiftly over the ice and into the water.

"Faroth!" Jnían screamed. She tried to make it to him, but the ice kept separating in the quickly warming air. She reached to him and missed again.

Over the noise, Jnían could hear Faroth shouting, "Take the piece, Jnían! Leave me and go back to Gondor. You can save them!" With a final pass she managed to retrieve the piece from his outstretched hand.

"I'm coming back for you!" she shouted to him, then turned toward the shore, making excellent time jumping from piece to piece. Seconds later she was fumbling toward the horses. She closed in on her own. "Amáteria, bring him back to me!" As the horse galloped away, Jnían's vision became severely blurred. It was then that she realized she was crying. She stood, shivering next to the edge of the melting snow, looking at the green grass that was poking through rapidly. Minutes passed that seemed like an eternity. The snort of Amáteria brought Jnían's eyes open. Faroth was draped across her back, motionless. Jnían pulled Amáteria away from the water. With a great effort, she managed to move Faroth to his own horse. She put a hand to his neck. There was a weak heartbeat, but it gave her little hope. She mounted Amáteria and took hold of the other horse's reins. In seconds, they were galloping away with great speed over the now completely revealed grass. But the new warmth wasn't enough for Faroth. Jnían knew she needed to find somewhere where he could be dried and warmer, and soon.

After several minutes Jnían spotted small huts with a warm glow coming from them. It didn't take long to realize they were Dwarves. Jnían scowled with disgust at the creatures, still holding a bit of the old judgment that Elves and Dwarves didn't interact well together. But she leaped from Amáteria all the same, and began to pound on one of the small doors. When it opened, several pairs of eyes were staring at her.

"I need help!" she gasped.

"Go away! No help here, especially for Elves!" one of them grumbled.

"Please, my friend will die," she pleaded.

"No! Go away!" all of them agreed.

"Please," Jnían tried again. "He's not an Elf, anyway." The speaker of the group glared at her for a moment, and then pulled the door all the way open. "Thank you," she said gratefully.

"Yes, yes, just bring your friend in. Hurry up," the dwarf said hastily. Jnían swiftly brought Faroth to the small door, and then ducking, handed him to the dwarves inside. It proved exceedingly difficult to remove some of Faroth's armor, but they managed.

Faroth awoke to the familiar sound of Jnían's voice. He gazed up at her profile. Her eyes were closed, and her long eyelashes were resting against her cheeks. Unable to stifle his groan, Jnían snapped her eyes open and look at him. His damp hair fell across his eyes.

"I thought I had lost you," Jnían murmured.

"You'll never lose me. Jnían, I lo—"

"Hush," she said, silencing him with her finger. "Wait until the time is right. We must leave now. Our hosts were a might reluctant to let us in." They both laughed.

Back out in the now springtime feeling air, they began to make their way toward Gondor, and toward Andúin.


	19. On the Fields of Pelennor

"Of course you can't come, Andúin," Eldarion said for the tenth time, running a hand through his graying hair. "You disobeyed my orders to stay out of these affairs from the beginning, and then when you were brought back here _twice_ you again disobeyed me, running off with that Elf."

Andúin hung her head. She was beginning to wish she had stayed with Jnían and Faroth. At least they were doing something helpful. Gondor was preparing their army to go to the black fog and try to attack it. Of course, Andúin wanted to accompany them and fight as well, but her father found that to be an abomination even to think about.

"You are all I have in this world, Andúin," Eldarion was stills speaking. "You are all I have left to remind me of your mother. You are Gondor's flower—"

"Maybe I don't want to be Gondor's flower," Andúin said defiantly, meeting his eyes. "Maybe, for once, I want to be Gondor's hero, Gondor's soldier. I am doing no good staying in the castle looking pretty. I want to fight!"

"I can't afford to lose you, _Merilwen_," Eldarion said wearily. "You know this, and yet you persist. You are just like your mother." He kneeled before her, taking her hands in his. "Andúin, please, you now have a king pleading with you. Stay here, be safe."

Andúin felt tears come to her eyes. "You know I can't agree to that, Father," she said, her voice sounding choked. "I love you, but—I can't listen to you on this matter."

Eldarion looked to the marble floor, heaving a heavy sigh. "I would always blame myself if something happened to you."

"Nothing is going to happen to me!" Andúin pleaded. "I'm stronger with a sword then you realize. I would be an asset for Gondor. Anyway, you're going to need every soldier who can walk to hold off the men from Haradwaith which are sure to accompany the Fog. And don't you remember Harethgûl? I was able to defeat her single-handedly. Besides, she was a woman fighting for her country."

"Andúin, they live in a different culture," Eldarion replied, his voice soft. "I don't wish to go through this exercise again."

Andúin pulled away from his grasp, shaking her head. "No different, Father. I am going to fight." She turned and ran from the throne room, tears streaming down her face. She couldn't leave Gondor to fight on its own. And if the country was going to be destroyed by the Black Fog anyway, she wanted to go down fighting. She left her father still kneeling, alone in the great marble hall.

* * *

"I can see the tower of Minas Tirith!" Jnían yelled from where she surveyed the landscape from the top of a tree she had climbed. "We must fly, Faroth, there is still time!" She jumped down from the tree gracefully, and quickly mounted Amáteria. Not even waiting for a response from Faroth, she was off at a gallop.

The wind began to whip around them, blowing leaves and twigs to get caught in their hair and scratch their faces. But they persisted as their fast pace until they stood on the edge of Pelennor. They stopped their gallop atop a mound of dirt where the grass grew tall and green. Faroth looked to his left to see a marker protruding from the soft dirt, the writing worn, but still legible:

_Faithful servant yet master's bane,_

_Lightfoot's foal, swift Snowmane._

Jnían followed his gaze. "We stand on the Howe of a horse of Rohan, if the stories I have heard were true about the Battle of Pelennor so many years ago. If we do not make haste, they shall soon be making one for Alata."

With those parting words they moved respectfully from the grave and looked towards the towering White City. Legions of men could be seen filing through the gates and onto the plains, though the wind still whipped through the air. Upon the horizon facing south could be seen the beginnings of the Black Cloud, the sky dark. Jnían's cunning eyes could see across the leagues that separated them, and she noticed that the Cloud was accompanied by men of Haradwaith, just as Andúin had predicted would come. They came to watch the Cloud destroy Gondor, then loot the city for anything that was left, and then continue to follow the Cloud as it moved across Middle Earth.

"We need to destroy the Cloud now, before it reaches Osgiliath or Minas Tirith," Faroth said, breaking their awed silence at the scene. "If the delegates find us and get the staff, they will surely use it to use the cloud only to destroy the lands with a greater efficiency. They will only banish it once they have had their fill of domination, and the peoples of Middle Earth are dead."

"Then we must hurry," Jnían replied. "But first, we must find Lhach."

"Are you mad, Jnían?" Faroth asked her, his eyes narrowing. "You can seek him out for your revenge after we have saved Gondor!"

"Faroth, surely you jest, for perhaps you have just forgotten," Jnían replied crossly. "He had the base of the staff. The other three pieces we possess are going to do no good on their own. And for future reference, I never seek out revenge for something that has happened to me, only to avenge was has happened to others. I haven't forgotten Awiié, and when I drive my sword into Lhach's heart, she will be the one on my mind. We can only hope that he is with the other delegates."

"My guess is he is, considering we haven't seen him in a fortnight whilst we were searching for the final piece. He probably returned to his men when he realized they were closing in on Gondor," Faroth remarked.

"Good reasoning, Faroth, I just hope you are right," Jnían praised. "We just need to avoid Gondor's armies, for I doubt they shall believe we are helping them. But we must reach the delegates and defeat Lhach before they reach Gondor."

"We can cross through the forest of Ithilien. It is a fair country of climbing woods and swift-falling streams, and it has been my refuge many a time. Ithilien is the only part of Gondor I was ever in before I met you."

Together they skirted the border of the country until they reached Osgiliath, and then crossed behind the garrison and into Ithilien. They made good time with Faroth's knowledge of the wooded area. In a shorter time then they had expected they were within range of the delegates, who traveled the safe distance of about a league before the Black Fog. Sure enough, Lhach was near the front on his horse, conversing with a large man in royal garb.

"Laiquenius," Jnían barely breathed.

"Who?" Faroth asked, a look of puzzlement crossing through his gray eyes.

"Laiquenius," Jnían repeated, turning to face him. "After Andúin and I had first met, we were forced to flee to Osgiliath, where we met Lhach for the first time and learned of the Dáe staff. But I found a letter to Lhach from the only person above him, this Laiquenius. My guess is that is their true leader, and the man leading the delegates now."

Faroth narrowed his eyes. "Then this is entirely his fault, all his responsibility," he assumed. "When we take down Lhach, we must take him down as well." He instinctively fingered an arrow in the quiver across his back.

Jnían laid a steadying hand on his upper arm. "Be patient," she said softly to him. "You are beginning to act as rashly as Andúin. Remain calm, the time will come. But now, we must formulate a plan to retrieve the base and make destroy the Fog."

Faroth nodded, releasing the arrow. Rash actions had no place in this battle, and he would only make things more difficult then they already were. "What do you propose we do, then?" he asked Jnían. "Ride right into the midst of them and attack Lhach, then flee because we are hopelessly outnumbered?" he added sarcastically.

"That is exactly what I plan to do," Jnían replied to his surprise. She whispered to Amáteria and the pair were soon galloping from the sanctuary of Ithilien and towards the delegates.

"And she said I was the rash one," Faroth muttered to himself before following after her.

They charged the delegates head on, and it definitely took them by surprise. The delegates didn't react to the intruders until Faroth and Jnían were already level with Lhach. Upon the closer range, they noticed that Lhach still had his abdomen wrapped from his run-in with the Fell Beast. But Jnían had no mercy for him. She was able to knock him from his horse, bearing the satisfaction of hearing him scream in agony as he hit the hard ground, before she was surrounded by other delegates.

Faroth was having the same problem as he was swarmed. But a large number of the delegates had broken away from the group and surrounded Laiquenius, trying to protect him.

But their enemies were not interested in their leader at all, and they had mercilessly left Lhach unguarded on the ground. Jnían was able to squeeze her way through the men attacking her from every direction long enough to reach Lhach's horse, were she could see the base protruding from a saddlebag. She grabbed it, and then whistled into the howling wind.

Aátrius seemed to appear out of thin air, the winds from the Black Cloud not affecting him in the least. Jnían threw the base into the air, and he clasped it in his talons, letting out one long shriek before flying into Ithilien.

"No!" Lhach screamed as he struggled to his feet, his arms clutching his middle. "Fools! How could you let her get the piece?"

"How treasonous, Lhach!" one of the nearby delegates yelled. "You wish us to protect you and leave Lord Laiquenius unguarded and at the mercy of these usurpers?"

"Yes, how treasonous," Jnían mockingly scolded from nearby, still safely mounted upon Amáteria. She ducked just as an arrow breezed past her. She turned to see a group of the men rushing towards her, swords brandished. "I don't have time for this," she muttered, then closed the gap between herself an Lhach.

"This is for Awiié!" she yelled, then plunged her sword into his chest. Lhach screamed out in anguish. All the men attacking Faroth instantly left him and rushed towards Jnían. She quickly pulled Ranafëa back, then again yelled, "And this is for Hwesta!" she stabbed him again. Lhach fell to his knees, his head rolling back on his shoulders.

Jnían turned to fight off several of the delegates coming at her from behind, destroying them quickly in her frenzied attack. Amáteria reared up on her back legs, and Jnían yelled one final time, "And this—this is for Lothlórien, you who thought you could ever destroy it!" Amáteria came down on the crumpled man, crushing the last bit of life from his broken body.

"Jnían, the Fog!" Faroth yelled, and Jnían could barely hear him over the now roaring wind. She turned to see the Black Fog had gained considerable ground behind them.

"_Noro lim, _Amáteria, _noro lim,_" Jnían exclaimed to the animal. Amáteria bolted forward with Faroth soon following.

"Shall we follow them, My Lord?" one of the delegates asked of Laiquenius.

"No, they are only two people," Laiquenius replied gravely. "And they have relieved me of something that was proving to be more trouble than he was worth. Besides, they have only injured our frontal squadron. The legions behind us don't even realize there was a fray. Press on toward Gondor!"

"Yes, My Lord, right away, My Lord," the man said quickly.

Faroth and Jnían didn't have time to ponder why they were not followed. They disappeared back into Ithilien, where Aátrius soon returned the base to Jnían. "We have to go back to Minas Tirith," Jnían ordered.

"But look at the horses, Jnían," Faroth said, his voice low. But he spoke a truth. Both of the horses were shaking, breathing hard from the constant running, and both were profusely bleeding from the encounters with the delegates.

Jnían blinked back tears as she painfully replied, "We have to go anyway. They will do as we ask, no matter the sacrifice of themselves. Worst has come to worst, Faroth. We don't have any other choice."

He nodded grimly, and they set off towards Minas Tirith one last time.


	20. Upon the Spire

NOTE TO READER-I know this is another short one, but its important. A longer one hopefully later this afternoon, but I'm doing this before the bus comes, so I'm in a bit of a rush.

When Jnían and Faroth finally reached the gates of Minas Tirith, the legions of Gondor had begun their clash with those of Haradwaith. "We must get as high as we can!" Jnían exclaimed.

"To the top spire?" Faroth questioned her, looking up the large marble front of Minas Tirith.

"I'm afraid so. The longer we linger here, the more Gondorians are going to be killed."

The large gates were left unguarded, seeing as the usual guards were now upon the battlefield with their comrades fighting an impossibly large army being backed up with an invincible weapon. When they entered the city, they saw women and children scattered about, weeping or deep in prayer for the redemption of their city and the survival of their soldiers.

The horses' hoof beats echoed along the marble roads, their heavy breathing mixing with the sound of the people of Minas Tirith crying out toward the heavens. But they were not hindered as they raced against time up the seven levels of the city. Finally they broke through the gates guarding the castle itself and the courtyard of stone.

"Even the castle is left unguarded," Faroth observed without stopping.

"King Eldarion is probably fighting alongside his men," Jnían assumed. "'tis a sign of a good king."

They were forced to dismount at the castle doors. Both horses were now shaking violently, but they remained loyally standing, waiting for their masters. "I can run faster than you," Jnían said as she pulled the pieces of the staff from their saddlebags and began assembling them. "I will take the staff to the top. Follow me."

"Jnían—what if it's dangerous?" Faroth asked, concerned. "We never found anything about what happens to the person wielding the power in the Dáe staff."

"I've grown rather accustomed to danger," Jnían replied, quickly, and then gave him a smile. She turned to run into the castle, but he grabbed her, pulling her back to him. He then kissed her, with more passion than he ever had used, and for a moment time seemed to stop.

But he soon pulled her away from him. "Come back to me, Jnían," he said to her. She couldn't respond; she could only turn and run into the castle and up the stairs toward the spire.

Jnían burst through the doors and was in the spire. She ran to one of the open windows and surveyed the scene. She could see all of Gondor, framed in the background by the foreboding Mountains of Shadow. She observed the two clashing armies spread across Pelennor, and in the distance she could see not only one Black Cloud, but three, all moving with incredible speed towards the armies; towards Minas Tirith.

The staff suddenly felt warm in her grip, and she looked to see it seemed to have an unearthly glow radiating from the gold. All the markings down the length of it were shining with a blinding light, and the large red ruby that marked the top was humming, casting a red tint on her face.

Jnían took the staff in both of her hands, holding it before her, and then slammed it into the hard marble of the floor. The marble cracked loudly, but the staff remained unscathed. The red light of the ruby shone down from the spire and onto Pelennor, landing directly on the largest of the three Clouds, then splitting and piercing the other two as well.

She could see the armies had stopped in their fighting, and were watching the Black Fogs with interest. "_Alae! _The Dáe staff! Go back to the shadows from whence you came!" she screamed as loudly as her voice could scream.

The staff shook in her hands, and then burned with white hot. But she didn't let go, her fingers fused to the metal. "_Alae!_" she yelled again, and then felt her strength start to drain from her body.

The Clouds simultaneously seemed to explode from the inside. There was a moment of complete silence in which not a breath taken, nor did a bird cry its song, and then there was a deafening explosion. Faroth threw open the doors to the spire just as he saw Jnían collapse. He had to let her fall, though, as he grabbed the staff, holding it in place. He felt his own strength now being called upon by the power within the staff.

A gust of violent black wind blew in every direction as the Black Fog dispersed through the air, carrying on it the sounds of men screaming in misery. Everyone in Gondor was forced to their knees by the force of the wind, and trees bent to the ground, their trunks creaking in agony. Everyone, that is, except for Faroth. The staff kept him on his feet even as his black curls were blown back from his face and his cloak ripped off, flying into oblivion.

There was another loud popping sound, and suddenly everything was still again. Black dust now covered everything, even blocking the sun in the sky. But Faroth could see that all of the Haradwaith lay on their back, dead. The staff had lost its glow, and was once again back to its normal dull gold. He fell to his knees, dropping the staff loudly to the cracked marble.

He looked to Jnían. She lay limp on the ground, her eyes closed. He cradled her head in his hands as tears ran down his face, making clear stains through the black dust covering his face.


	21. Gondor's Flower

NOTE TO READER-I still can't thank my reveiwer enough, you are really meaning a lot to us. But I am seeing on the stats others are reading without input, and I would really appreciate even a kind word here near the ending. I really, REALLY hate fishing for reveiws because I hate when other authors do that, but as I have said, we NEED them as part of our presentation. And anyone that is reading, recommend us, I can't say how much we would appreciate that. This is the next to the last chapter, I hope you all enjoy.

Andúin slowly stood on shaking legs. She brushed the black dirt as best she could from her armor. The delegate she had been locked in sword battle with only moments before now lay dead, along with every other man from Haradwaith. She looked around to see the other soldiers of Gondor unharmed though, and rising from under the layers of dust.

She pulled her helmet off, letting it fall to the ground as her auburn hair spilled onto her shoulders, still clean. She carefully scanned her surroundings, taking a deep breath, which caused her to cough a bit, choking on the dusty air. She noticed a soldier struggling on the ground near her, and approached him, offering a hand.

When she helped him to his feet, she recognized him to be Captain Thalion. "Lady Andúin," he acknowledged, his voice raspy. "I see that nothing could hold you back from fighting." He gave a weak grin, and then started coughing violently, his entire body shaking.

"Captain Thalion, are you alright?" Andúin asked him, concerned. She looked down his body to see a gaping wound across his stomach.

"One of them attacked me, right before the explosion," he replied, his voice barely distinguishable about this coughing fit.

"I'm sure someone will be able to help you," Andúin assured him as she helped him sit. "Have you seen my father?"

Thalion was only able to shake his head as he started coughing again. Andúin could see blood on his glove when he pulled it back from his mouth, and she felt a cold feeling grip her stomach. "I'm going to look for him," she said soothingly to him. "Don't try to move yourself."

She rose from the ground, leaving Thalion leaning against a few of the Haradwaith she was able to pile up, and looked for her father. Everyone else she asked replied that they had not seen the king since before the battle. Andúin felt more and more fearful as she searched.

Suddenly, she heard a small voice behind her. "Mi'Lady? Is that you?" it asked softly.

Andúin spun on her heel and saw Hwesta stumbling towards her. He was covered in the black dirt, and he looked thin and sickly. "Hwesta, it is me!" Andúin exclaimed, running over to the little Elf.

"I was still being held a prisoner for after they retrieved the staff," Hwesta said, leaning against Andúin as she kneeled beside him. "But they all died when the Black Fog was defeated. I didn't think I would ever see you again."

"Oh, Hwesta, it's wonderful to see you," Andúin said, pulling him into a gentle hug.

"Where is Lady Jnían?" he then asked, his large eyes glistening.

"I—I don't know," Andúin replied, looking to the ground shamefully. "But I'm guessing it was her that destroyed the Black Fog."

"Ah, yes," Hwesta agreed. "Well, we must find her."

"I need to find my father first," Andúin replied. "He is here on the battlefield somewhere."

Together they searched to no avail, until a voice called out, "Lady Andúin! I have found the king!" Andúin turned towards the voice to see a young soldier waving towards her, though no other man stood beside him.

Andúin rushed over, fearing for the worst. She then saw Eldarion, lying on the ground, his entire body black with the dust, his eyes closed. She kneeled down beside him, brushing some of the dirt from his face.

He stirred, opening his eyes. "Andúin?" he questioned, his voice barely audible and terribly raspy.

"Yes, Father, it's me," Andúin replied, tears flowing freely.

"Do not weep for me, my daughter," he said, reaching a feeble hand for her hand, clasping it weakly. "You were right. Gondor needed you during the battle today. I have never been so proud of you."

"Only because of what you taught me in secret," Andúin said, gripping her father's hand tightly, never wanting to let go.

"But you are still Gondor's flower," Eldarion continued, a weak smile forming on his dry lips. "But you are a rose, my dear Andúin. A flower whose beauty has no comparison, and yet when you try to hold on to it too tightly, the flower proves it can stand up for itself as well as look beautiful. That is why I have always called you _Merilwen_. It is Elvish for rose."

"Oh, father, that's beautiful," Andúin said, her own voice now but a whisper.

"No son could ever replace you," Eldarion said so softly Andúin had to lean her ear close to his mouth to even hear him. "I would want no other to rule Gondor. I love you, _Merilwen_." And with those words, so passed Lord Eldarion, son of Lord Aragorn, King of Gondor.

Andúin mourned over the body of her father, still gripping his cold hand. But she was brought out of her mourning by a familiar voice calling her name. She looked over her shoulder to see Faroth, looking the worse for wear. But then she looked to the limp body he carried in his arms, and recognized it instantly to be Jnían.

She jumped to her feet, running over to Faroth. "What has happened to her?" she demanded of him, her voice cracking.

"It was the Dáe staff. The power in it seemed to drain the life from her. When I reached her, she had already fallen." He hung his head, and Andúin noticed the paths of the tearstains down his face.

She ran a hand over Jnían's face, looking over her apparently uninjured body. The last words they had exchanged were in a conflict. "We must get her to the Houses of the Healing. She might still have a chance; we have some of the most powerful healers in Middle Earth." Andúin called out to one of the many soldiers now helping their injured comrades back towards Minas Tirith. "Lead him to the Houses of the Healing," she ordered, motioning at Faroth. The solider quickly nodded, then waved for Faroth to follow him. Hwesta quickly scurried after them.

Andúin turned back to the man who had discovered Eldarion. "Help me carry him to the courtyard," she said to him, trying to keep her voice level. Together they moved their king's body onto his shield, and carried him into the city.


	22. Blessing and Blossoms

FINAL NOTE-Thank you very much to all that have read this story. This is the final chapter you hopefully have all been waiting for. This was mostly the rough copy of this story unrevised, so my apologies for the typos or research errors, they are being fixed as we speak in the final copy. I feel the ending is slightly abrupt, but it feels appropriate. I hope you all have enjoyed it, and please pass on the word of the story to your friends to read, for we still have at least a week before we have to present, possibly more.

_Calo anor na ven, Belain na le. Namárië. _

_(May the sun shine on your road, the Valar be with you. Farewell.) _

Jnían stirred in her bed, and then slowly opened her eyes. She looked around her, slowly taking in the beautiful flowers surrounding her soft bed of white sheets, and the balcony before her open to a stunning view across Gondor. She blinked a few times, searching her mind for a memory of the last thing she remembered. 

Suddenly the door flung open, revealing a bustling Hwesta, his arms full of more flowers which were adequately blocking his view. "Hwesta!" Jnían exclaimed, unable to believe her eyes. The last thing she knew about him was that he was still with the delegates.

Hwesta instantly dropped the flowers to the floor in surprise. "Lady Jnían, you're awake!" he yelled, racing across the floor and leaping onto her bed. "We weren't sure if you were ever going to awake."

"How long have I been asleep?" Jnían questioned.

"At least a fortnight," he answered. "The Dáe staff must have been terribly powerful to do that to an Elf."

"A fortnight?" Jnían repeated, massaging her temples. Memories of the battle and the staff were surging back into her mind.

"Yes, Lady Andúin has been very worried," Hwesta continued.

"Andúin? I have not seen her in so long. She is alright then?"

"Better then alright, mi'lady. She is to be made Queen of Gondor! But she wished to wait for you to be well enough to attend the coronation."

Jnían instantly pushed back the covers on her bed, sliding to the floor. "Well, I am feeling better," she said, taking a deep breath. She did feel surprisingly better, considering she had only just awoken, but then, she had her Elven blood to thank for her hardiness. She walked towards the door with Hwesta trailing behind her, skirting the dropped flowers. "Who were those from?" she asked, nodding towards the petals scattered about the flower.

"Why, Faroth, as are most of the ones in the room," Hwesta said shyly.

* * *

Andúin sat comfortably on the base of her father's throne, and Faroth was lying on his stomach on the floor in front of her. For the first time since they had met, they were able to be truly lighthearted, with nothing in the world to worry about.

Suddenly, the door burst open and Jnían charged in, running straight for Andúin. Andúin jumped up in return, catching the Elf in a tight embrace. "I didn't think you were going to make it," Andúin said.

"Don't underestimate an Elf," Jnían teased back. "I was just trying to make you nervous to make it all the better when I recovered." They laughed together, and the sound echoed lightly off the marble.

Faroth rose, a grin on his face as he watched the two girls. "We were worried about you, Jnían," he added a bit more seriously. "The healers told Andúin she was a fool to wait for you to recover."

"I knew better than that," Andúin inserted. "I know you better than those healers ever could."

The trio laughed again, together at last and in harmony. "Andúin, you can't put off your coronation much longer," Jnían suddenly exclaimed. "The people of Gondor do need a leader."

"How did you even know?" Andúin asked her, her brow creased in confusion. "I wanted to be the one to tell you."

Hwesta stepped forward, his face flushed a deep scarlet. "I'm sorry, mi'lady, I could not wait to tell her. It is rather exciting news, after all," he said, his voice small.

"Do not fret so over something so insignificant," Andúin assured him. "This is a time of joy and celebration, and as Jnían said, this coronation cannot be put off forever."

* * *

Captain Thalion slowly lowered the crown onto Andúin's bowed head. She looked up, meeting his eyes and smiling. He smiled back, and then stepped away from her as she rose to her full height. There was a silence as she looked across the white courtyard at all the people of Gondor gathered, covering the ground, and she knew that even more stood on the levels below her.

"_Queen_ Andúin," Thalion said recognition of her, motioning a hand at her.

Andúin quickly held up a silencing hand before anyone could say anything else, then spoke, her voice soft and smooth, "_Et Earello Endorenna utulien. Sinome maruvan ar Hildinyar tenn' Ambar-metta!_" The people of Gondor erupted into applause, for these were the words of her grandfather Aragorn, the same words he had spoken at his own coronation marking the beginning of the Fourth Age. No one needed the translation, for they all knew in their hearts the meaning of 'Out of the Great Sea to Middle Earth I am come. In this place will I abide, and my heirs, unto the ending of the world.'

Everyone then bowed to their knees before her, and she had to wipe away a single tear from her eye. She finally felt complete, felt that she had done her father proud.

Again she spoke, "Please, do not let this celebration focus only on the crowning of an heir. We would not be standing here at all if it wasn't for a few others." She walked forward a few paces to the edge of the crowds, to the familiar faces in the front. "Arise, Lady Jnían, Lord Faroth, Sir Hwesta," she ordered.

They stood, and soon all eyes were upon the four of them. "I thank the three of you for saving Gondor, and in doing so, saving all of Middle-earth. We are eternally grateful to you and your people." She paused, turning to Jnían and Faroth. "You have my blessings on your love, Lady Jnían and Lord Faroth. May you go forth and prosper in matrimony." She paused again, and then turned to Hwesta. "And for you, Sir Hwesta, I give you the word of a queen to take back to your own people that you are more than worthy of a spot on the council." She stepped back a few steps, noticing the tears of joy shining in Jnían's face, and knew she had them herself.

"Let us enjoy another age of peace," Andúin said to all the people. "A peace that shall last until the end of all the ages of Middle-earth."

And so they passed into the Fifth Age of Middle-earth on that brisk summer day where the blossoms of the white tree rained down upon all gathered for the spectacle, and they were at peace.


End file.
